


Chimera

by dehautdesert



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Sexual Assault, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Pre-Slash, Same-Sex Daemons, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, horrible things happen, implied suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 68,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dehautdesert/pseuds/dehautdesert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the Blue King has no daemon.</p><p>Well, Misaki says that; but then, Misaki will believe anything, and Saruhiko enjoys nothing better than tormenting him with that thought, along with anything else he can torment him with. As for Munakata's situation, Saruhiko couldn't care less.</p><p>Really. He couldn't...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Condylura Cristata

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here I am writing another daemon AU fanfic instead of doing anything else I'm supposed to be doing. Go me.
> 
> A quick explanation for those of you unfamiliar with the concept--based on Philip Pullman's 'His Dark Materials' book series, the idea is that in this AU a person's soul exists outside their body in the form of an animal companion, which can change shape during childhood but settles on a final form during puberty. Touching another person's daemon is taboo unless you have an extremely intimate relationship, and trying to separate a person from their daemon is usually fatal unless done via a process called 'intercision', which can leave a person alive but crippled.
> 
> Those are the basics, but you'll probably see a lot of head-canon and other people's head-canon in this fic; par for the course for daemon-fic, from what I've seen. For instance, many people spend a lot of time crafting the names of character's daemons, whereas I mostly just make them up off the top of my head, but I have adopted the idea that the daemons of parents are the ones to name the daemons of their children. There will be a final list of whose daemon is what at the end of the fic, but in several cases it involves spoilers, so I won't post it for this chapter.
> 
> And a final note on the names; I've decided to use 'Reisi' for the spelling of Munakata's first name as it's what I see more commonly in the manga scans I've read. I've also seen both 'Taishi' and 'Taichi' used for his brother, and am planning on using the former when he appears later in the fic unless someone tells me that's wrong. I have not read the novels, though I am familiar with Anna's backstory, and as this fic takes place pre-series the events of the movie have no bearing on it. Correct me if I'm wrong, and I hope you enjoy the story. :)

 

*~*~*

 

 

The Blue King had no daemon. 

That was the rumour anyway, and while he may not have started it, Saruhiko generally blamed Misaki for how it had been perpetuated into the Red Clan's rabble—and from there to the streets at large. He was certainly the one who shouted the loudest when it came to that particular story.

Munakata Reisi had been chosen as the Blue King not long after HOMRA had rescued Anna and Scheherazade from their captors—a few months at the most. But it had been almost half a year before anyone from HOMRA had actually met him, as he'd not deigned to follow up on the connections the Blue Clan had had to that incident; or at least, not so that he'd made any move to contact Anna.

Given what Saruhiko would later learn about the man, in all likelihood he'd sorted that out without bothering her. He probably wouldn't have seen the need.

As for how they finally had met him, it had been one of the last relatively cool days of the year before summer took its hold, and Saya had been in one of her increasingly frequent manic states; scampering along Saruhiko's shoulders and around his torso—down his arm and onto Kusanagi's bar then back up the other arm and onto his head, claws pulling on his hair as her tail knocked his glasses askew.

He remembered grabbing her, and throwing her onto the seat of a nearby booth.

"Would you stop that?!" he'd snarled.

She'd hissed right back and extended her frill, raising herself up on her hind legs. He'd clicked his tongue and turned his head away, but hadn't been able to ignore the stunned looks Misaki and some of the others had given him for his action.

"What?" he'd asked them, trying not to snap. "It's a reptile thing."

That had always been and to some extent remained a good go-to excuse for strange behaviour. In defiance of the diversity of the natural world, 46% of daemons worldwide—according to WHO statistics—were mammals. A further 31% were birds. Only 9% were reptiles and Saya was the only one in the inner circle of HOMRA—rare enough that Saruhiko could make up whatever he wanted about her and have the average Red Clansman believe his lies.

Not too surprisingly, Kusanagi had been an exception. He had more than two brain cells to rub together for one thing, and had simply pretended not to see what Saruhiko had done, wiping a glass nonchalantly while some of the others had been exchanging worried looks. But his daemon Chiaka, a large grey monkey, hadn't been able to keep the disapproval from her eyes; leaping from the other side of the bar and onto Kusanagi's shoulder as if to hint at them as to how a human and a daemon should act. Saruhiko had just scowled at her.

Then Misaki's wolverine Kiallanta, who everyone called 'Kiki'--impulsive and reckless as ever--had run past the stool he'd been sitting on towards Saya and Misaki had followed her up until he reached Saruhiko.

"What the fuck're you talking about, a reptile thing?" he'd yelled, shoving Saruhiko hard enough to bruise, though Saruhiko had doubted he'd meant to.

He hadn't understood it then and only had the casual musings of a man of questionable character now to shed any light on it, but his body had been feeling weaker and weaker toward the end of his time with HOMRA. Even small things like Misaki had been leaving their marks.

Misaki hadn't left it there of course.

"You don't just throw your daemon at the wall like that, Saru—I don't care if she's a reptile, or a snake, or a..."

"Spider?" Saruhiko had offered. "Slug? Centipede?"

"Cockroach?" Saya had added, frill going down but her body still on her hind legs.

"Quite. Snakes _are_ reptiles, by the way—just so you know, Mi-sa-ki."

"Shut up, Saru!" Misaki had cried, fists clenching. "The fuck's your problem anyway?!"

Saruhiko remembered feeling his teeth start chattering together as he'd grinned.

"There's no problem, Misaki," he'd replied. "Saya and I were just playing."

"How is that playing!?" Kiki had demanded, and Saruhiko hadn't answered, because there was a certain etiquette about talking to other people's daemons—trust Misaki and Kiki not to observe any such etiquette—and just then he hadn't wanted to put in the effort of analysing what any reply might have said about his relationship with the oversized weasel and her human.

Saya had been under no such constrictions.

"Aww," she'd said, and finally dropped onto all fours. "Did Kiki want to come and save me? Poor, fragile Saya—tossed about by her unruly Saru. Were you going to give me a kiss and make it all better, Kiki?"

Kiki had always been less prone to shock at the things Saruhiko and Saya said when they were trying to get a rise out of her and Misaki. She must have been where Misaki kept his higher brain functions.

This time she'd just growled and backed away. Saya had jumped off the seat and back up Saruhiko's leg, her tail flicking Kiki as she ran past her.

Saruhiko remembered that little slice of everyday HOMRA hell in surprisingly vivid detail.

Anyway, that had been when the door had opened, and stopped any response Misaki might have made.

The man who'd entered the bar had been young—twenty or so, with bleached hair and no immediately visible daemon. Not a bird or a medium to large daemon then, Saruhiko had deduced, and probably not a fragile one since he wasn't wearing a protective case to hold an insect; though not everyone did that, and it could have been a case small enough to hide.

His clothes had been simple and stained, he'd had a smirk that kept trying to grow into a grin—like he had some big secret he just couldn't wait to tell everyone, and he'd sat at the bar almost like he'd owned the place. Though no one had said anything or even made much movement before he opened his mouth, there had been an instant and unmistakable dislike for him from everyone in the room. Even Saruhiko.

 _Especially_ Saruhiko.

"Bourbon," the man had said, drumming his hands against the top of the bar.

Not unnoticeably, Kusanagi had winced at the man's dirty fingernails striking his precious rosewood. Chiaka had given him a worried look.

"Four-fifty," he'd said, as he'd turned to get the bottle from the shelf.

"You'll give it to me for free when you hear what I have to say," the man had replied. His grin could not be contained from that point onwards.

A smile of a very different sort had appeared on Kusanagi's face. He'd given the other Clansmen a pointed look that told them not to make a move until he'd given his explicit orders to do so. At the same time, Chiaka had jumped off his shoulder to go upstairs and rouse Mikoto from his afternoon nap—she could go quite far from her human without trouble, so she often performed these tasks. Kusanagi had then poured the bourbon.

"Oh?" he'd said. "I'm intrigued. You have some sort of information you believe would be of use to me? A new cocktail you've heard of? A particularly fine wine—"

The man had chuckled. "I won't string you along," he'd interrupted. "What I have is primarily of interest to your Red King, not his bartender."

Next to Saruhiko, Misaki had tensed up. The other five Clansmen who'd been present hadn't been able to hide their own reactions, less pronounced than Misaki though they were. Saruhiko had just rolled his eyes.

"You want to see the Red King, do you?" Kusanagi had asked, putting the bottle back on the shelf. "I don't know about that. He doesn't see just anyone."

"He'll see me," the man had said. "My name's Ishitaka Kenji, and I'd like to give him some information about SCEPTRE 4."

At that point Kusanagi's head had tilted in interest. He'd slid the glass across the counter without looking at it and glanced off to the side.

"SCEPTRE 4, huh? We hadn't heard much from them lately. As I understand it, they finally got themselves a new King."

Spitting his drink back into his glass with laughter, Ishitaka had wiped his sleeve across his mouth and laughed again.

"Oh, they've got a King all right," he'd said. "Let me tell your Suoh Mikoto-san a few things about this guy. You've already had a little skirmish of sorts with that lot; I know, because I was one of that Gold bastard's subjects."

He'd waved his hand, and the alcohol in his glass had come twirling up into the air, forming a sphere that floated above his hand before he'd poured it back into the glass, never once touching the liquid.

"You're a Strain," Misaki had observed, gritted teeth pulling themselves apart.

"I am that," the man had replied with a wink.

On Saruhiko's shoulder, frill folding out to brush against his hair, Saya had dug her claws in and hissed, but Ishitaka hadn't seemed to notice.

Then two things had happened close enough together in timing that Saruhiko couldn't remember which came first; the bell over the door had rung again as Totsuka and Perikhadi had brought Anna and Scheherazade back from a shopping trip, and Suoh Mikoto had followed a scampering Chiaka down the steps from his room, Kol lumbering and yawning behind him.

He remembered that when Chiaka had leapt back onto Kusanagi's shoulder, the first thing she'd said had been "Welcome back."

"We got Anna some very nice new shoes," Perikhadi had said, peeking out of the left-hand pocket of Totsuka's jacket.

Anna had started running towards Suoh almost as soon as she'd spotted him, but just as she'd passed the bar she'd stopped, turned around and tilted her head, looking at Ishitaka with both recognition and curiosity. He'd given her a wave.

"This gentleman seems to have been a fellow patient at that hospital," Kusanagi had said—not the most subtle way of asking Anna to confirm, but polite enough not to get their guest riled up.

After a slight pause, Scheherazade had run up Anna's shoulder in gecko-form and Anna had nodded.

Kusanagi had smiled, but coming from him it had meant next to nothing.

"I believe he has something to tell the Red King."

Suoh Mikoto had already thrown himself down on the couch; that look like he'd been lobotomised in his sleep plastered on a face Saruhiko couldn't bear to look at for too long. He'd pulled a bent cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with his fingers—nearly setting his hair on fire in the process and apparently not caring.

Such was the man who had become Misaki's idol.

Sure, he was slightly more impressive when he hadn't just woken up; but even then, it wasn't like Suoh Mikoto the _man_ was anything special—having a male daemon excepted. It was the power from the Dresden Slate that people flocked to. Suoh hadn't even asked for it, let alone earned it, and that went for the adoration of his subjects as well as his powers.

At any rate, he'd barely raised his eyebrows at Kusanagi's words. Anna had sat down next to him and Scheherazade had climbed over her lap and onto Kol's head. Suoh had glanced at the little girl's daemon briefly.

"She's a lizard today, then?"

"Hn." Anna had nodded.

"What's that like?"

There'd been a pause.

"Cold."

Saruhiko had clicked his tongue and scowled while Saya opened her mouth as if hissing, but hadn't actually made a sound. He was pretty sure Misaki had spared him a worried look, for the second or so the incident had kept his attention.

Ishitaka meanwhile had noticed that the Red King _wasn't_ paying him any attention. He'd gulped down the bourbon and slid off the bar stool to approach the King, giving him a wave, then an awkward bow, then another half-wave.

"Suoh Mikoto-san?" he'd asked. Suoh had just stared at him so he'd continued, "My name is Ishitaka Kenji, and I'd like to show you something—a, uh, demonstration—so you know the information I'm going to give you can be trusted."

Most would have said Suoh continued to stare blankly at that point. Saruhiko didn't miss how the Red King had checked for Kusanagi's approval at that point.

Ishitaka had cleared his throat.

"You five—" he'd said, addressing the Clansmen milling around in the background but not looking at them. "Mix your daemons up so I don't know whose is whose. Hide them from me if you can."

The five men had reacted in different ways, tensing up, leaning back, cringing—but each of them had checked Kusanagi's opinion on the matter one after the other and had taken the slight inclination of his head as approval.

"This is exciting," Totsuka had said, coming to sit at the bar one space over from Saruhiko. "Do you think he'll do a magic trick?"

"Maybe he'll make them all _disappear,_ " Saya had whispered in Saruhiko's ear. He'd forced himself not to flick her face.

Hesitantly, each of the other Clansmen had left their daemons in the booth they'd been sitting at and approached Ishitaka. Bandou and Fujishima had been the most brazen; the former filled with false bravado, the latter probably genuinely unafraid. Kamamoto had been somewhere between confused, scared, and more interested in the manjuu bun he'd been eating, while Dewa and Chitose had been the most reticent. Dewa had even begun glowing red when Ishitaka had reached into his pocket.

He'd only pulled out his daemon, of course. It had been a strange-looking thing; at first Saruhiko had thought it a black hamster or some type of rat, but it had actually been a mole—a star-nosed mole, with an anemone-like snout at the end of its face.

"This is Tef," he'd said. "Tef, what kind of daemons do these guys have?"

 _Oh, now, this is interesting_ , Saruhiko had thought, because right then it had become pretty clear where this demonstration was going to go, and in all likelihood what 'genuine information' he was going to give them. He'd even sat up a little straighter in response.

The daemon had stuck her little head out and wiggled her strange nose a little. Daemons, as a rule, didn't have all the specialised skills of the animals they'd taken the form of; but not only were there exceptions to that rule, there were also instances in which a daemon had unheard of capabilities.

First, Ishitaka had held her out towards Fujishima, and she'd been fast when she'd said—

"Mammal. Cervidae." Then there'd been a pause of no more than half a second. "One of the Muntjac species—probably Indian."

Indian Muntjac deer. That was Fujishima's daemon all right, not that Saruhiko could have told you that despite hanging out at the same bar as her and her human for the better part of a year. He'd have had to actually care to find out the species' actual name, and knowing it was a small deer had been more than enough for him.

Ishitaka had held Tef out to Bandou next. This time she'd been even faster.

"Corvid—carrion crow."

Saruhiko had always thought it was a raven.

Tef had turned her nose towards Kamamoto next and hesitated, then scratched her head with her huge paws and said, "Pri—no. Marsupial. Koala."

The koala's nickname was 'Naru', Saruhiko had known that much, but then Kamamoto had been a more permanent fixture around Misaki than some of the others, and there was only so much he could wilfully ignore.

"Feline," Tef had said a moment later, sniffing at Dewa. "Hmm. Medium-sized—serval, probably."

Another cat. It had given Dewa some level of standing in HOMRA, having the closest daemon type to the King's.

Chitose was surveyed last, and Tef had said, "Hare," without a second thought, following it up instantly with, "New World variety—scrub hare," which from the expression on Chitose's face had been something even he hadn't known.

Totsuka had actually clapped. "Well done!" he'd told the pair. "Five out of five!"

Ishitaka had smiled briefly, but that had quickly dropped when he'd noticed the lack of expression on the Red King's face. Bandou's carrion crow had flapped onto Bandou's shoulder, followed by all the other daemons dashing out to rejoin their other halves, except Naru, who'd just climbed on top of the seat and let Kamamoto pick her back up. Ishitaka had approached Suoh again, but not too close, his eyes wandering back to Kol's huge frame every few seconds.

"Tef can tell what anyone's daemon is. Anyone's. Doesn't matter if they're hiding up their sleeve or in the nearest closet to try and fool people: she knows." He'd paused. "And I hear you lot don't get along well with SCEPTRE 4."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Misaki had snapped, moving closer to his King himself. It had made Saruhiko sigh, but no one except Saya had noticed.

"Well," Ishitaka had replied, "what do you know about the Blue King? I mean—he's your enemy, right? You've already fought with his Clan and from what I hear the last Red King killed the last Blue King. I was thinking you'd probably want as much information about him as you could get."

At that point Kusanagi had come out from behind the bar as he answered—

"At the moment all we know is his name. The Gold Clan have been rather meticulous when it comes to protecting the identities of Kings—presumably to keep their families safe. I'll admit I have found myself confounded, but when it comes to information I'm interested in learning about the Blue King, the identity of the daemon he keeps so close to his chest that no one's seen it isn't top of the list."

"Even if he didn't have a daemon at all?"

A hush had descended over the room. The cold kind.

Even Suoh's eyebrow's had risen, and the cigarette he'd been about to take a drag from had stopped halfway to his mouth. Even Kusanagi's normally unflappable exterior had taken on a look of shock. Even 'everything will work out' Totsuka had appeared momentarily haunted.

Even Saruhiko had finally swivelled around on his barstool to pay complete attention.

"Th-that's stupid!" Misaki had shouted, the first to break the silence. "Everyone has a daemon, you probably just didn't see it!"

"I told you," Ishitaka had said. "Tef always knows. Everyone's daemon leaves a kind of impression on them, and he didn't have one at all. No daemon; no impression of a daemon, nothing. And if you'd met him up close and personal like I have—when he was trying to lock me back up in a lab, by the way—you might not be as surprised at the thought that he didn't have a soul."

"I'll interrupt you there and make a guess," Kusanagi had said. "That's why you're here. You want our protection."

Ishitaka had ignored Kusanagi, but got on his knees before Suoh.

"I would do _anything_ ," he'd confirmed. "Seriously, that old fart running things in his tower isn't going to touch your little princess here, but he's given out orders for a lot of the rest of us to be 'recalled' and... well. There was an... incident... earlier today."

"There were a lot of police in moving about the city," Totsuka had commented.

"I'm sure there were," Kusanagi had said, waving his hand dismissively. "What interests me is why you in particular have been recalled."

Ishitaka had not been able to hide a frightened look before he'd schooled his features, putting Tef back in his pocket.

"Well I didn't exactly volunteer for the project; they already had me in holding. But you have to understand, that was nothing—you know what these people are like when you have powers like we do and you put one toe out of line."

"And what line was it exactly that you put your toe out of?"

Kusanagi's question had caused an expression of physical pain to appear on Ishitaka's face. Saruhiko had pegged from the beginning that the man was nowhere near as confident as he'd appeared when he'd ordered his drink, but now he'd begun to see how truly desperate Ishitaka was. Whatever he'd gotten himself into with the Blues, it had been bad.

Not that Saruhiko had seen it as any of HOMRA's concern. He'd just been preparing for that anyway because HOMRA was stupid, and stupid people got involved in things that weren't their concern all the time. Saya's tail had curled around his neck on the inside of his collar just then; that's what she did when they were beginning to get nervous.

"It was nothing," Ishitaka had repeated, standing up again. "But you know the Blues—they're fucking fascists! They just want to control everything people do; especially Strains. And that King of theirs has really jumpstarted things, brought in a whole bunch of new people and has them dividing up the city for surveillance; everywhere that isn't the territory of another King. Fucking creepy fucker; he's got these dead eyes and as I said—no daemon."

The growing panic in Ishitaka's tone had done little to impress Kusanagi.

"I have to say, Ishitaka-san, your reticence in regards to how you first ended up in SCEPTRE 4 custody is not exactly filling me with confidence as to how far we can trust you."

Ishitaka had groaned.

"I may have stolen some shit, all right? It was kid's stuff—really, but that's not why I'm here. There was another guy at the hospital where they were keeping me and your princess; same-sex daemon, so you can imagine they were _real_ interested in him."

In defiance of the 0.01% average rate of same-sex daemons that the general public held, it had been Saruhiko's understanding that Kings had them at a rate of over half. Both the then-current Green King and Colourless King had also had male daemons, and while the Gold King didn't, rumour had it the Silver King had a male songbird of some sort. Having Scheherazade had been one of the things that had put Anna on the radar of those people.

On the other hand, they also comprised up to 15% of the _general_ Strain population, so there were no guarantees. Ishitaka had continued.

"Anyway, he seemed to know what he was doing, so when we got out I stuck with him for a while and... well... things have gone kind of... bad."

That had been an understatement, to say the least, because at that moment the door to the bar had been flung open, hard enough that it had crashed against one of the booths, and a Blue Clansman in full uniform had burst into the building sword-drawn, followed swiftly and then overtaken by his daemon.

"The fuck!?" Misaki had yelled.

HOMRA called the Blues 'dogs' for more reason than just contempt for their adherence to authority—they did indeed, almost to a man, have daemons that were canines of one type or another; usually domestic dogs at that.

It had been difficult to think of this daemon as 'domestic' though. A thigh-high, sleek and snarling lupine beast with ash-grey fur and—as if in solidarity with her Clan—icy blue eyes. A Siberian husky. Her piercing gaze had fallen on Ishitaka immediately and she'd frozen.

"Ishitaka," her human, a tall brunet, had spat.

"Shit!" Ishitaka had responded, stumbling back far enough that the husky daemon was closer to Suoh than to him, even if the Red King wasn't actually acting as a barrier.

Misaki had, faithful as always, begun to make his stand for the Red Clan, with "Do you Blues really think you can waltz in here—" when the husky had cut him off.

"Shall I call them, Akira?" she'd asked.

"Hey!"

The Blue Clansman had clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. Maybe it had just been that Saruhiko had been closer, but he'd been surprised that even someone like Misaki hadn't seemed to recognise the cold fury that had been in that Clansman's eyes. Fury that had spoken of someone in no mood to listen to HOMRA bravado.

"Do it," he'd ordered his daemon.

With that, she'd thrown her head back and howled.

It had been a haunting sound, filling the room and with the door open probably the next few blocks around the building, stunning most of the gathering. From his position right next to Totsuka, Saruhiko could literally see him and his daemon stop breathing until the long howl was done.

At that point, Suoh Mikoto had stood up from the couch.

"Oi," he'd said. "What do you think you're doing?"

To the credit of the Blue Clansman, he'd stood his ground and stared down the Red King—although maybe that was as much a credit to his stupidity as it was to his bravery. As Misaki loved to demonstrate with annoying frequency, the two often went hand in hand. But the Blue had also flinched like he'd only just realised who he was standing in front of.

He'd taken a deep breath and visibly struggled to find the right words before replying, "This man is being taken into custody." He'd pointed at Ishitaka with his sword.

"Oh yeah?" Misaki had said. "And who told you you were going to do something like that?"

The Blue had shifted his stance a little, grit his teeth and re-tightened his grip on his sword, but he hadn't said anything. Saruhiko had seen him begin to realise what he'd got himself into, but hadn't bothered to draw his own weapons until he'd heard another voice yelling from outside.

"Hidaka!"

Looking towards the sound, Saruhiko had seen a second Blue Clansman approach from the street through the open door. The new guy had released his sword as he ran—though under his breath so Saruhiko hadn't heard his name. At his side had been a Great Dane, probably almost as tall as Misaki. The Clansman himself had hardly been petite.

The Great Dane had bounded in first, prompting most of the daemons to draw back, though Kiki of course had jumped forward and growled, and as you'd expect from a dog of that breed the second Blue's daemon had backtracked a little, even from the much smaller wolverine. Her human had also remained further back than the first, closer to the door and with his sword by his side.

"Hidaka," he'd said, glancing around. "The Captain said we weren't supposed to go into the bar even if—"

"He's right there, Gotou!" 'Hidaka' had snapped. "And he knows where Takashima is!"

"I don't!" Ishitaka had protested, arms held up as he'd backed right up against the wall and quickly searched for the door. "I have no idea where he is, I swear—"

"You've been living with him for months!"

"That doesn't mean I know where he is now! What, you think he's just hanging around our apartment? I can give you the address—"

"But you know where he _would_ go!"

"I have no fucking idea! I swear, man—I had no idea he was going to do what he did, no fucking clue!"

"Don't you give me that, you son of a bitch! One of our Clansmen is dead! Murdered by your friend!"

That had caused a hush.

Even Misaki, who'd always been the first to play into the stupid Red-Blue rivalry that was apparently a long-standing feature of their Clans, had gotten this dumb, empathetic look on his face when he'd heard the Blues had lost one of their own. His eyes had slid from right to left, taking stock of the positions of the other members of HOMRA before falling on Saruhiko.

Saya's little claws had dug in.

"Why did he look to _them_ first?" she'd whispered.

"Shut up," he'd hissed back.

Meanwhile Ishitaka had been stumbling for a reply to Hidaka's violent accusation, and somehow ended up deciding, "It was an accident—he was aiming for your King!" to be the best choice, because clearly he was also an idiot.

" _Kenji_!" groaned his mole daemon, who had still been in his hand. She'd sounded pretty desperate, and why wouldn't she have been?

"You're coming with us, Ishitaka," Hidaka had growled, "if I have to cut down every Red between us to get you." His daemon had emphasised him with a vicious snarl.

Hearing that and seeing the man start to glow blue had quashed any feelings of sympathy the rank and file of HOMRA might have had for the Blue Clansmen. Not that they'd had any reason to protect Ishitaka, but when a member of SCEPTRE 4 began talking about cutting them down with his sword outstretched it gave rise to certain hostile feelings, and Misaki had been the first to power up red, followed swiftly by Kamamoto and Bandou.

Totsuka had stood up hastily.

"Perhaps if we all calmed down and talked this over..." he'd begun.

"Hidaka, think about this," pleaded the other Blue. "We've already lost one comrade today—"

"I'm going to give you one chance, Ishitaka," Hidaka had snapped, interrupting and ignoring his colleague all at once. "Where. Is. Takashima!?"

" _I don't know_!" cried Ishitaka.

In the corner of his peripheral vision, Saruhiko had just been able to see Saya licking her lips as she'd leaned forward towards the action. He'd expected a battle, and honestly hadn't known whether he should let the others take care of the two Blues they so clearly outnumbered and let Saruhiko get back to not giving a shit, or if he should attack first, from behind, and maybe alleviate some of the tension that had been all but crippling him for weeks.

However, he never got the chance. Of all people, Anna had then injected herself into the proceedings.

"Takashima Natsuhiro?" she'd asked, small voice sounding so much louder than it should have.

Hidaka had done a double take like he hadn't noticed she'd been there before, as most of the eyes in the room drew her way. Hidaka's had swiftly turned back to Ishitaka's though.

"What do you know about it?" he'd asked. Some of the rage in his voice had disappeared, probably in recognition that he'd been talking to a child.

There had been a beat then. A short moment of silence as Anna had hesitated, then filled before she could say anything by a new voice.

A new voice that had come from right. Behind. Saruhiko.

"Miss Kushina has met him before."

There'd been no warning. The doorway into the bar had been right in his line of sight, and yet there hadn't been so much as a Blue blur coming from that direction before the voice spoke.

Saruhiko had yelped and tried to turn around and jump away at the same time, predictably losing his balance and able to get his first look at the Blue King, Munakata Reisi, standing over him as he fell backwards towards the floor of the bar.

 _Well. This will be embarrassing,_ he'd thought.

He'd been more right than even that, because in another seemingly motionless movement, the unknown Blue had caught him before he'd even fallen below waist height, and held him with a strange and cryptic smile for what had felt like the longest moment in the world, effortlessly avoiding getting too close to Saya as he'd done it.

For Saruhiko it had felt like his heart had stopped beating. Somehow he had known at once that this was the Blue King. It hadn't been any striking similarity to Suoh Mikoto, not by any stretch of the imagination, but then they hadn't been entirely dissimilar either. That force, the force that both of them exuded from every plane and contour of their bodies was like nothing else in the entire world. The difference was that Suoh was a firestorm, an explosion—his was an intensity so overwhelming that you couldn't even look at him for too long.

The Blue King was more like a whirlpool; a vortex. He didn't blast you away. He pulled you _in_. Ishitaka must have been blind to have thought the man's eyes looked _dead_.

On the other hand, as Ishitaka had claimed, from what Saruhiko had been able to see the man indeed had no daemon.

In the very next moment he'd lifted Saruhiko up and deposited him back on one of the bar stools, then gone so far as to casually brush his shoulders and arms off while Saruhiko had been too stunned to protest and Saya had clung to his chest too fearfully to even puff her frill out. Munakata had said nothing at all to him, but his eyes had lingered on Saruhiko's before he'd turned to face Suoh—and if he hadn't broken that contact there was a part of Saruhiko that was afraid he wouldn't have been able to do it himself.

"My apologies for the intrusion," he'd said, unfailingly polite. "I am Munakata Reisi, the fourth and Blue King and head of SCEPTRE 4. That man," he'd pointed at Ishitaka, "is a person of interest in an investigation and I should be pleased to take him off your hands, Mr... ?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Suoh had said, smirking and obviously not believing that to be the case.

Munakata's smile had grown bigger. His gaze had slid from Suoh's face towards Kol, and he'd tilted his head slowly as he'd scoured the huge lion with his eyes.

"I suppose I could make a guess so long as I had the assurance that you would not consider that to be rude?"

"He _is_ a stickler for propriety, our Mikoto," Kusanagi had said dryly.

As Munakata had sought out Kol so too had Kusanagi and Chiaka been conspicuously seeking out Munakata's daemon, and as Saruhiko had before them, they'd come up empty. He'd just seemed completely _alone_.

"Captain," the second Blue had said, worriedly. His Great Dane had let out a very quiet whimper.

Munakata had given him a short, slow nod. "Forgive me, Gotou-kun. I must say I had wanted to visit my patronage at this place for some time, and I'm sorry that it has to be under these circumstances, but I'm afraid I must be taking Ishitaka-san into custody now."

If Ishitaka had seemed scared before, trying to melt himself through the back wall to get away from Hidaka and the husky, then he'd been positively petrified once Munakata had looked in his direction—frozen stiff and barely breathing.

As seconds had passed without anyone saying anything, Ishitaka had finally gathered the strength to slowly turn his head, inch by inch towards Suoh and croaked out—

"Please, _please_ don't let him take me! He's not human—"

"If I could stop you there, Mr. Ishitaka," Munakata had interrupted, "and perhaps bring to attention something you seem to have overlooked. Mr. Takashima's personality profile was well-documented by the Gold Clan and as you can imagine I have been studying it extensively. As you have been living with him for some time, I imagine you also have a relatively accurate estimation of his character. What do you think he's going to do to you once he finds out this conversation took place?"

Ishitaka's eyes had already been starting to tear up at that point, but when that thought was put in his head—and clearly it indeed hadn't been there before—they somehow twitched even further open. Munakata had continued;

"I don't expect you can count on the Red King to protect you from a teleporter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I've had the chance to peruse _his_ file also and I got the impression his attention span wasn't quite that long. No offence," he'd assured Suoh.

Suoh had shrugged. "Oh? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"—and you of course have my word that no harm will come to you within the confines of SCEPTRE 4's territory. Other than that I'm afraid you really have no choice."

"I don't _know_ anything!" Ishitaka had whined, looking desperately about the room.

"He's nearby," Anna had said, abruptly. "Watching. He won't come close while _he's_ here."

Hidaka had drawn himself up.

"Where nearby!?" he'd demanded, only Munakata had held a hand up and stopped him.

"Thank you, Hidaka-kun, but I'd rather not involve Kushina Anna in this affair," he'd said, for what could have been many reasons.

At any rate, Anna hadn't spoken again until after the Blues had left. Meanwhile, Munakata had continued to try and bring Ishitaka to him quietly.

"And I'm not surprised that Takashima is watching. Now, he can't get into my headquarters undetected, but I'm afraid it would be a simple matter for him to teleport into this bar and take you, Ishitaka-san. I don't believe for a moment that you know nothing at all about this."

There had been a tense silence.

"If you want my opinion," Kusanagi had said to Ishitaka, returning to his spot behind the bar and polishing a glass as he'd spoken, "I'd take what's being offered. I don't think we can help you."

As much as that had been a genuine piece of advice for Ishitaka, it had also been a summation of Kusanagi's opinion on the matter for Suoh's sake; and like a good puppet-king Suoh had casually sauntered back to the couch and lit another cigarette. Munakata had watched him the whole time, then watched Kol when he lay down at Suoh's feet and yawned, not turning his head away from Ishitaka but keeping his eyes locked on the other King and his daemon until they'd been settled.

As for Ishitaka, that had been the point he'd given up; and not that Saruhiko hadn't understood the logic behind coming here in the first place, but it had still been a stupid idea on Ishitaka's part—gambling his safety on the idea of a rivalry between two people who had never actually met before that day.

Still, when Hidaka had made to move forward to collect Ishitaka, and the other one, 'Gotou', followed; Kiki had blocked their path with a growl, reminding them that SCEPTRE 4 did not have free reign within HOMRA territory—certainly not within their headquarters, if that wasn't too sophisticated a term for Kusanagi's shitty bar.

So Kusanagi had jerked his head towards Munakata and, reluctantly, Ishitaka had stumbled over. He'd actually seemed relieved that Hidaka and Gotou had intercepted him as soon as he'd passed Misaki and Kiki, as though afraid that Munakata, apparently having no daemon of his own, would want to steal his like some ancient youkai folk-tale. Or what did they call them in Christian mythology? Nephilim?

It didn't matter. Despite what the mole had said, Saruhiko didn't believe the Blue King had no daemon. He was probably keeping something like a bee in a case in his pocket. That was the kind of thing he'd have expected from a Blue King—a Queen Bee directing her workers, keeping the hive running smoothly with a sword for her stinger. Maybe the mole just wasn't as good at identifying daemons that weren't warm-blooded.

Speaking of which, Saya had been unusually quiet since the Blue King had stepped onto the scene. A quick glance revealed, to his unnerving, that she'd seemed fixated on Munakata. Her frill had been extended to its fullest and she'd been staring at him like she was hypnotised, still clinging to Saruhiko's chest.

Saruhiko had promptly flicked her in the face and shrugged off the ensuing jolt of pain he'd felt through his own body from their connection. She'd shaken herself and crawled quickly back onto his shoulder, and only then had the tension begun to leak out of the room.

So, finally, Hidaka and Gotou had lead Ishitaka out of the bar without further comment, though the husky had lingered for a moment to give them a parting growl, and Ishitaka had given the Red Clan one last look of helplessness before he'd been taken back out onto the street.

Good riddance.

Then Munakata had given them—and by 'them' one was to understand 'Suoh'— a shallow bow.

"My sincere apologies for any trouble you or your Clan may have been caused because of this matter;" he'd said, insincerely. "I am truly grateful for the assistance."

"What assistance?" Suoh had asked with a snort.

Munakata had just tilted his head a little and kept smiling.

"I am very pleased to finally be able to meet you, Suoh Mikoto. I hope we can become good friends."

Yeah. Saruhiko had been starting to see why everyone was afraid of this guy. Everyone except Suoh, who'd just looked at him like he'd made a terrible pun.

"Stay for a drink next time," offered Kusanagi, who'd been doing a better job than the others to hide how disturbed he'd been, but hadn't been able to stop Chiaka from crouching down behind his back with fearful uncertainty.

"I look forward to it," Munakata had replied cheerfully, turning back towards the door as he spoke.

He'd deliberately caught Saruhiko's eye on his way out, and unless Saruhiko had gone completely insane and was hallucinating, had winked at him.

And then, like rain into the ocean, he'd vanished.

 

~*~*~

 

The next meeting of HOMRA with SCEPTRE 4 and Munakata Reisi was destined to be a whole three-and-a-half hours later, but with no way of knowing that the whole incident had almost immediately been treated like some kind of once-in-a-lifetime supernatural encounter.

Which, to be fair, it had been. It wasn't as though Kings and Clans were a part of most people's everyday lives.

"He had no daemon!" Misaki had whimpered, becoming the first to break the long silence that had followed Munakata's departure. Kiki had been pressing herself against his leg nervously. "No daemon anywhere around him..."

"Oh, come on Yata—of course he did," Bandou had said, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably so his crow had to adjust her position.

"Did you see one!?" Misaki had yelled at him.

The way Bandou had averted his eyes may as well have stood in for a 'no'; he hadn't bothered to actually say it before he'd qualified, "No one doesn't have a daemon—even if you don't see them right away."

"Maybe he's a vampire?" Saruhiko had suggested slyly.

As he'd hoped, Misaki had actually taken that suggestion seriously, his eyes widening.

"I thought vampires all had vampire bats for daemons!" he'd exclaimed.

"Only in the movies, Mi-sa-ki."

"Thank you, Fushimi-kun," Kusanagi had cut in, giving Saruhiko a disapproving look. "But vampires only exist in movies period, so I think we can safely write that one off. The most likely explanation is, as Bandou suggested, that his daemon simply remains out of sight. I know that guy's mole had a rather impressive ability, but if you think about it, all your daemons are warm-blooded. Chiaka and I may not be daemon analysts but we got a distinctly cold impression from the Blue King, and that mole probably doesn't have as much experience with that kind of thing."

That had been precisely Saruhiko's thoughts on the situation; but hearing it come from Kusanagi had made him instinctively want to disagree, and he'd very quickly wondered why, if that had been the case, the mole had received no impression at all, rather than simply an unfamiliar one.

"Did you notice anything about him then, Fushimi-kun?" asked Totsuka.

Saruhiko had not, however, cared to actually discuss those thoughts out loud. He'd clicked his tongue in annoyance at Totsuka's question and shrugged. "I don't know. He—"

With there really having been no point in continuing, he'd cut himself off and stopped talking. The others never paid attention to anything he said anyway. It had been no surprise when they hadn't pressed him further.

"He definitely wasn't dead," Saya had whispered. Saruhiko hadn't given her a response either.

"You don't think he's _severed_ , do you?" Kamamoto had asked.

The room had gone very quiet then. As far as Saruhiko had been able to see, everyone except himself had looked to their own daemons as if to reassure themselves they were still there, and Anna had even taken Scheherazade off her shoulder so she could hold her closer, at which point Scheherazade had promptly shifted into a snowy-white ferret and curled around her arms.

In Saruhiko's opinion severance was a short-sighted and stupid explanation for Munakata having no visible daemon, for the simple reason that the man had seemed reasonably sane, but what really annoyed him had been the way everyone had clammed up as if talking about the subject would make it suddenly happen to them. Bunch of babies. And there a lack of propriety would have been the one thing he'd have expected from a gang of worthless thugs that wouldn't have annoyed him.

Typical, really.

"People generally don't survive long after an amateur severance," Kusanagi had said quietly. "And generally don't remain sane after a... well, I hesitate to call such a procedure 'professional', but an intercision, anyway. The only thing that seems to help is if the human and daemon are reunited reasonably soon afterwards; then even if their bond is broken they can still function within normal society—but if that had been the case we would have seen his daemon with him anyway."

Kamamoto had looked like he'd regretted bringing it up, and somehow everyone's eyes were being pulled towards the floor as if out of respect for all those people who had nothing to do with them who had been severed, and who they shouldn't have been able to care less about.

"Could have been a bird," offered Chitose. "Waiting outside on the roof. Then we wouldn't have seen her. Or him, I suppose."

"But if that was the case why wouldn't the mole have been able to tell?" Dewa had asked him.

Suoh had then proved he'd actually been paying attention to what had been going on by exhaling some smoke and muttering, "Don't suppose you could get to work on finding out what the deal really is?" to Kusanagi. "If not to stop these guys worrying about it, then so I get to see the look on his face when I ask for his daemon by name next time I see him?"

Kol had yawned for what was probably the fiftieth time that day. "That sounds fun," he'd said.

"What it sounds," Kusanagi had replied, smiling, "is extremely rude. But yes, I will be looking into it. Right now I'm more concerned with this Takashima person. Do you know if he's still outside, Anna?"

Anna had shaken her head.

"He moves... differently to other people," she'd said. "Like I can only see him out of the corner of my eye. If I try to look straight at him... he's gone."

"A teleporter, Munakata said," mused Kusanagi. "Would explain why he's having difficulty getting his hands on him. I suggest we stay out of it though."

Tapping some of his cigarette ash into a tray, Suoh had said, "Not my problem," and that had been the end of that topic.

Talk had soon moved onto the subject of the other two Blues and their daemons, whether they'd been 'worthy opponents' or not, whether the Blues in general were anything to worry about or not, how great and awesome HOMRA was and how special they all were for being part of it and by that time Saruhiko had long tuned out.

He'd wondered, though, if they'd had these kinds of conversations at SCEPTRE 4. Not the part where they'd discussed the nature and abilities of potential enemies, that he'd have expected from any organisation with potential enemies, but the whole circle-jerk shtick that Misaki insisted on not only being a part of, but being the lead proponent of.

"He might as well say it," Saya had whispered to him. " 'Things are so much better now I'm not stuck with just that loser monkey for company'."

"Shut _up_."

It had also occurred to him that he rarely said anything else to her but 'shut up' in those days. But she just hadn't been able to quit, hadn't been able to help herself—day after day, _he doesn't care, he doesn't care, they don't care, does he even see us anymore, they never really did, did they, why are you even still here?,_ and he'd preferred telling her to shut up to asking the natural follow-up of _where else would we go?_

And getting the only answer he could think of.

Had they been just as eager to bluster about how great they were in SCPETRE 4? Just as ready to fall down at the feet of their King and lick his shoes like... well, like dogs.

No, he wouldn't have thought so. A man like Munakata, for all Saruhiko had only spent all of ten seconds interacting with him at that point, had blatantly not been the type men would _fawn_ over. At least not the way Misaki did Suoh. He'd just not seemed accessible in the same way.

"Didn't I tell you, Saru? Didn't I say? 'He might look like he likes you, but I know she doesn't like me'."

What had Saya even been talking about then? Hadn't Kiallanta tried to come to her rescue just within the previous hour? Had Saya just been trying to pick where she knew it would hurt him?

"Shut up," he'd told her, again.

It had been starting to get much too hot in the bar.

"No one really like me, do they, Saruhiko?" she'd continued. "Not even you. You know what that means, don't you?"

Her tongue had flickered out.

A frill-necked lizard's tongue shouldn't have been able to do that.

"Shut up!"

The room had gone still.

Shit.

The others had heard him that time.

And, without fail, Misaki had been the first to respond.

"What? Do you have some kind of problem with what I'm saying, Saru? You think Mikoto-san couldn't take on another King—any other King—and win?"

Damn it. What had that little idiot even been blathering about?

"Oh, is that what you were saying?" he'd asked. "All I could hear was this unintelligible grunting and growling sound—"

"Fuck it, what's your problem, Fushimi?" Dewa had suddenly snapped, his serval batting her tail angrily. "You've been like this all day, is it your time of the month or something?"

The ensuing look of complete bewilderment on Misaki's face had been every bit worth the insult.

"Mm, maybe," Saruhiko had answered. "Just so you know, Misaki—he's talking about how I transform into a werewolf with every full moon."

"Fushimi-kun," Kusanagi had said—a warning.

Though really, who the fuck had he been to start giving Saruhiko warnings about how he spoke to Misaki? Everything had been fine between them before HOMRA. Honestly, in Saruhiko's opinion Suoh and Kusanagi and hell, even Totsuka, should have flicked Misaki away as you would an annoying insect the minute he'd started hanging around them like an over-eager puppy, as if they hadn't had enough devotees as it was. Should have _seen_ what they were ruining by encouraging this.

Right. As if they'd have cared.

It had been right about then Saruhiko had become uncomfortably aware of the knives in his pockets, and when an image had appeared right before his eyes, unbidden, Kusanagi's precious imported counter with blood dripping down over the sides in little rivulets, he'd decided he'd had enough.

And he hadn't even been sure whose blood he'd been imagining. Kusanagi's, Suoh's, Misaki's...

His own?

"Whatever," he'd said, standing up from the bar. "It's past Saya's bedtime. I'm going to take her home so she can have her beauty sleep."

He'd said it with a chuckle, because everyone knew reptiles were hardly considered beautiful. He'd also gone straight for the exit without looking back because if he was having uncontrollable visions of blood it was probably the best move to make all round. If nothing else it would have alleviated the awkwardness that had clearly been making more than just Dewa uncomfortable. Even Fujishima and Kusanagi, who Saruhiko had thought of as generally unflappable, had been noticeably tense; the latter continuing to polish an already polished glass, the former's daemon pawing the floor nervously with her hoof.

It had been no surprise to Saruhiko at least that their beloved Red King hadn't seemed to give a single shit, and the lion could have been asleep for all he knew. True, Saruhiko wouldn't have expected anyone to care about this crap, but usually when Kusanagi interfered Suoh would at least pay attention. Not that it had mattered, with him being out the door in five seconds.

As he'd reached for the knob to the door so he could close it behind himself, he'd heard Misaki call after him, "Wait, what if it rains—?" just before the door had closed, and with considerably more force than had been necessary.

And that had been that.

He remembered sighing with relief. Even then, it had begun to become far less painful to be away from Misaki altogether than to be in his presence only to be deliberately ignored in favour of those worthless cretins.

He had thought it deliberate, somehow. Not even Misaki could have been stupid enough not to realise what he'd been doing, he'd told himself. Almost as if he'd wanted Saruhiko to go away, really. Almost like he'd just been laughing at him.

That one thought had almost made him turn around and go back inside, because if Misaki thought he'd quietly slink off and die, and leave him to frolic with the rest of those worthless punks then he'd been even stupider than Saruhiko had ever realised.

But then, sometimes Saruhiko just thought crazy things like that. He'd invariably blame Saya for it, though that was kind of crazy too when you took into account they were the same person.

No doubt she'd been working on the next verbal needle she was going to poke him with as he'd wandered away.

It hadn't been a cold night. Rain had been expected earlier but never showed, despite the week before having been like a monsoon, and there'd been no sign of it approaching as Saruhiko had been leaving the bar. The only other person on the street had been an unusually innocent-looking hooker with a black cat daemon in her arms; probably waiting for Chitose as her kind had never flocked to the area immediately outside the bar for cruising purposes. She'd given him a welcoming grin, and a wave, and he'd completely ignored her. She should probably have counted herself lucky he hadn't flashed a knife at her or something.

"Where are we going, Saru?" Saya had asked him. Taunted him. " _This_ isn't the way home."

 _What home?_ he'd wanted to reply. But what would have been the point, when she'd already known what he was thinking? When she always, _always_ knew what he was thinking because she _was_ him?

So he'd said nothing and kept walking.

The streets immediately surrounding the bar had been oddly empty, even in retrospect there seemed no reason for it, though he supposed the most likely explanation had been the activity of the Blues that day. He hadn't ended up going into the city, but given his later experience he could imagine the less than 'upstanding' element of the citizenry who'd made up the bulk of that area had been having second thoughts about leaving their shitty apartments.

Still, it had been an odd thing. And they'd just met a man who'd apparently had no daemon, so they hadn't exactly been their best at ease.

There hadn't been any wind either; it had made the place seem still, like the world had stopped turning and everyone on it had disappeared.

Sometimes he might have liked to think that that was indeed the case.

But that day, the person he'd really wanted to just disappear had been—

 

*~*~*

 

"Pardon me, _Ni-san_."

 

*~*~*

 

It had happened like a cobra-strike.

Or rather, like an eagle ambushing him from above.

For the second time that day an unfamiliar voice had come from behind him without warning. This time Saruhiko had not even had the time to cry out and fall over himself like a fool, the man who'd suddenly appeared behind him had circled one arm around his chest, trapping his arms against his sides, and used the other to clap a leather glove-encased hand over his mouth, preventing him from making a sound.

The very speed with which what happened then had happened had been dizzying. One moment he'd been walking an empty street, the next the street in front of his eyes had blurred and spun around until everything about his environment except the sky was gone. Without the time for more than being briefly startled, he'd been the one who'd disappeared.

 

................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

 


	2. Harpia Harpyja

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, once again I have to pick through my uploaded text to see which lines have been randomly deleted by the site. Usually it's lines that are only a word long, but when I posted the first chapter it ate the very first line of the fic, and made the subsequent paragraph complete nonsense. And I didn't notice until the next day. Anyway, hopefully I'll get the text right this time; I've had to extend the fic to five chapters, but I think I'll get them done in a timely fashion since I'm more than halfway through writing chapter four.
> 
> NOTE: In the last A/N, I forgot to mention that when a person dies, their daemon immediately turns to gold, sparkly dust. With that in mind, please enjoy this chapter XD

 

_*~*~*~*~*~*_

 

_"A teleporter, Munakata said."_

_Watching from outside the bar_ , Anna had said.

Fuck.

The first thing that had happened after that had been the sudden dizziness that would have sent Saruhiko tumbling to the ground had the man who'd grabbed him not been holding him up. Still, he'd sagged within his captor's arms, and the wet stretch of dirt that had replaced the asphalt road had rushed up towards him at least two feet. They'd been in some kind of abandoned-looking construction site, a huge muddy area spotted with piles of rocks and rubble, and a giant steel frame skeleton of an unfinished building overlooking the river.

Miles away from where they had been moments ago, nearer the outskirts of a city whose lights had been shining across a bay.

"Whoah there, Ni-san," the man had said as he'd jerked him up. "You could hurt yourself."

Then, and only then, had Saruhiko finally been able to process the fear.

He'd tensed up and made a move to break free, but the Strain seemed to have a second power of having fucking iron bars for arms because he hadn't been able to budge them. He'd figured out pretty quickly that this man was the 'Takashima' the Blue King had been looking for, but as he'd known that man had already killed one person that day, identifying him hadn't been a comfort.

Saya had hung on to his shoulder, thank fuck, but with the man behind them squeezing them close she too was trapped, and even though it was only his coat pressing against them it had been uncomfortable. It had made them feel trapped twice over, the feedback of each other's feelings looping between them as the mere layers of cloth that had separated Saya from the skin of the man's chest had still let an underlying feeling of violation blossom inside them both.

They'd been abducted. Their unwanted association with that gang of thugs had actually gotten them abducted by a fucking murderer. What the fuck were they supposed to—

"Now," the man had said, interrupting Saruhiko's train of thought. "You tell me what Little Boy Blue had to say to Red Riding Hood, and I might let you get away without any broken bones. You get in my way... well."

Of course; he'd wanted to know if Munakata had had any information or promise of assistance from Suoh. It had made sense, and Saruhiko had honestly had no reason not to tell him.

Except that he'd never been known for his propensity to do favours for people he really didn't like.

"Those two?" he'd choked out. "From what I could tell they were talking about how well your _mother_ entertained them last night."

There had been a sense there that he'd been about to be punched, but a smirk had made its way onto his lips regardless, and the fear had begun to taper off. What had there been to be afraid of anyway?

However, instead of punching him, Takashima had just laughed.

"I don't think a member of SCEPTRE 4 would ever have said anything like that to me," he'd said approvingly. "You know, I kind of like you Reds."

_That makes one of us,_ Saruhiko had thought.

"And don't think I'm not grateful for the way you all got us out of the claws of the Gold Clan, Red-chan, but I know you hardly did it for _our_ sake."

He'd had a definitive pause there, while Saruhiko continued to struggle in vain, and it had given him the impression right there, in that pause, that the man holding him had been far more vicious than he'd previously thought. The kind of man who would have done more than just kill Saruhiko if he gave him a reason, or even if he'd just felt like it.

"And speaking of 'our'..."

When he'd let Saruhiko go at that point it had been so sudden that he'd fallen, and he'd only had the time to get back onto his feet when some kind of dark shadow had passed over his head and then, silent as a grave—

"SAYA!"

\--she'd been snatched off his shoulders.

There wasn't really a good way to describe the feeling of having your daemon taken from you—even if only a few feet away, back to Takashima's shoulder where the bird that had grabbed her landed. Saruhiko could have said it was like having your heart ripped out of your chest or some other florid cliché, but he'd never had his heart ripped out of his chest and neither had anyone else who used that phrase.

His hands had gone for his knives immediately, but he'd quickly felt the knives Takashima's daemon's talons felt they were composed of tighten around Saya, as she writhed desperately in its grasp, almost like she'd been having a fit; and he'd ended up not throwing them.

It had been more like he'd been suddenly pulled away from himself; like he'd felt what Saya was feeling more and his own body less. But since it had been painful for both of them, and the natural fear response had increased ten-fold, it hadn't really mattered whose fear and pain had made him sink down to the ground again instead of fight. It had just been... unpleasant.

"Don't let her go, Jackolann," Takashima had said. "We wouldn't want her to fall."

"No doubt, Natsuhiro," replied the daemon. Like Kol, and like Ishitaka had told them, he'd been male.

This turn had given Fushimi his first look at Takashima and his daemon. Takashima had been a tall man with long black hair, probably in his mid-twenties. His shoulders were broad and his body almost completely covered by a bulky tan-brown coat with an excess of buckles that had reached all the way to the man's ankles. He'd had a long, straight nose, narrow dark eyes, lined with dark eyeliner that hadn't made him look the least feminine, and while the lower half of his face had been mostly obscured by his coat's high collar, the black and gold tattoo of a raptor's talon over his left eye had been very prominent.

Though, it must be said, it had also been conspicuously smaller than the talons of his actual daemon. He'd been a raptor too of some kind, _enormous_ —Saruhiko had been surprised he'd been able to stay on his human's shoulder with that bulk—Saya had looked tiny by comparison. His underside had been white, his legs striped with the same charcoal his chest, back and wings had been coloured, and his head had been a somewhat lighter grey, and crested with darker feathers at the back.

"What do you think?" Takashima had asked him. "A daemon fit for a King? That Gold bastard certainly thought so. Slimy little guy, he was."

_Great. He's going to start monologuing_ , thought Saruhiko; already starting to breathe heavily to cope with the stress of his daemon being in the grasp of another.

"Did you ever see him? Salamander daemon; not sure what species exactly. Ishitaka could have told you, but he'll no doubt be off to the big molehill in the sky soon. She was a tricky little thing; much smaller than yours—don't think old Jack would have been able to hold her like he's doing now, would've have to stab her into place like a butterfly."

He'd made a little stabbing motion with his fingers, as if to remind Saruhiko what the word 'stab' meant in case he'd forgotten; which Saruhiko had supposed Takashima could have thought was warranted—with his knives out and him not using them for their intended purpose. But the talons around his daemon had felt so oppressive he just hadn't been able to think to lift those blades.

"Now the Gold King, he has an eagle like me. Not an eagle like Jack, but I'm sure you can guess what kind he does have. Hint, hint—it has the word 'gold' in it, since subtlety is not the staple of being a King. Your Suoh Mikoto and his 'king of the jungle', for example."

"He's not _my_ anything," Saruhiko had muttered before he could help himself.

If Takashima had heard him, and he probably had, he nevertheless hadn't commented. No, he'd gone right back to his earlier train of thought.

"As for the Blue King, well. Old Ishitaka swore up and down he didn't have a daemon. You'd think that being the case he'd have welcomed death, but no. Had to get one of his little puppies in front of my scope. You think Suoh would ask you to take a bullet for him?"

Despite his still-growing anxiety—fuck, Takashima had made his point hadn't he? Why couldn't he let her _go_?—Saruhiko had snorted with laughter, though it had been a little difficult with his breath coming in so shallowly.

"Not that kind of King, huh? Kind of defeats the purpose if you ask me, but then, maybe that's why I was never chosen."

With a groan, Saruhiko had asked him, "Did you bring us here to tell us your life story, or what?"

"Hah!" Takashima had laughed, but his eagle had tightened his claws around Saya enough that she'd stopped struggling, and Saruhiko had been forced to lean forward; his elbows bending and putting enough pressure on his arms that they'd started to shake while Takashima continued. "Actually, I was hoping you'd be the one who did the talking—ah, sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Fushimi."

"And the lizard?"

Saruhiko had taken the deepest breath he'd been able to.

"Saya."

"Saya. A good, solid, Japanese name. You know if Jacko here ever had a chick I'd hope he'd call it something native. But you daemons don't care for native-sounding names half the time. Like to think you're exotic, don't you?"

'Jacko' had cocked his head. "Well, you wouldn't find anything like me in Japan, now would you?" he'd said. "And _she's_ a bit far north for an Australian lizard."

"Oh, that she is," Takashima had agreed, grinning. "You know the funny thing about lizards, snakes, salamanders and the like, Fushimi-san?"

"I feel like you're going to tell me whether I want to know or not," Saruhiko had replied, through gritted teeth.

"The funny thing is, I don't think they're so rare as daemons because they're further away from people than other warm-blooded creatures. No, I think daemons settle mostly as mammals because mammals are the _hardiest_ of animals. Birds less so, but only for the most part—I wouldn't count a king's bird like Jack with them. Reptiles? Reptiles die _easy_. They have this... what was it? A stress reaction, to bad situations; where they just seize up and die. It's uh, kind of sad."

Yes, Saruhiko was sure it kept this shithead up at night. Obviously he'd known about stress reactions in reptiles before, but any idiot could tell you a daemon didn't settle because you reflected every single aspect of its choice's nature. To his knowledge, Suoh hadn't gone out and mauled any young children to death so he could impregnate their mothers recently.

"Oh yeah," he'd said, still gasping for air. Sweat had begun to form on his brow, making him aware of how hot it suddenly felt. "I imagine I'll die as easily as you'll flap your arms and fly away after I throw you off the top of that steel tower there."

Takashima had laughed once again and then suddenly stopped; and Saruhiko could just raise his head high enough to see him look at the tower in question and note the way his eyes had lit up like some terrible epiphany had been going on in his head.

_Shit. What idea did I give him?_

"Saruhiko..." Saya had whined, in a pathetic display of fear that had embarrassed them both.

Not that the fear hadn't been well-warranted. His daemon had been in the grasp of a psycho-killer's ridiculously huge eagle daemon's talons. But it had still been embarrassing because he'd hated his life so much that fearing for it could only have been the product of base animal instinct that he should have been better than.

He'd lowered his head again as the strain had gotten the better of him—no pun intended. The dirt in front of his eyes had been moulded by tire tracks that gathered little pools of brown water in their deepest parts. He'd actually weighed the costs and benefits of sinking his head down onto those pools so he wouldn't have to remain upright before deciding not to look like a total weakling.

Misaki would have been proud.

Hah. Misaki probably wouldn't have noticed one bit. Saruhiko might as well have rested his head on the ground as his body had urged him to do.

But he hadn't.

"You know, Fushimi-san; I think that may just be the answer to all my problems."

"So glad I could help," Saruhiko had hissed.

He hadn't had time to finish his sentence before Takashima had starting moving towards him, and while it had brought Saya closer to him that had been little comfort once Takashima had reached out, grabbed the sides of Saruhiko's head and yanked it up to look into his eyes. He'd had dark, dark eyes.

_Now he's probably going to snap my neck_ , Saruhiko had thought.

Only he hadn't. He'd leaned down and pulled Saruhiko up at the same time until he'd been close enough to tilt his face out of the confines of his huge collar and without any kind of warning, seal his lips over Saruhiko's.

Saruhiko hadn't had a sarcastic comment for that. His brain had all but gone blank even after Takashima had pulled his mouth away.

"Thank you, Fushimi-san," he'd said, "for being such an amusing captive."

He'd smirked.

"And now, hostage."

Then he'd slammed his fist into the side of Saruhiko's head and everything had gone black.

 

*~*~*

 

" _Wake up, little Red-chan; the cavalry's come to rescue the princess from the dragon._ "

...

"... Misaki?"

Saruhiko's return to consciousness had been rather abrupt, considering the trauma with which he'd been pushed out of it initially. He'd heard the familiar roar of motorbikes and as they'd gotten closer managed to pick out the skateboard that had been accompanying them, rolling along the uneven terrain of the abandoned building site—all somewhat muted by the rushing water of a river they must have moved much closer to since he'd been out.

However, it hadn't been until he'd heard the rumbling growl of that stupid lion that he'd realised what his waking brain had been trying to keep him from noticing.

"Saya?"

She hadn't been on him, or touching him, or even near him. In fact, he'd had no idea where she was, and that had sent a bolt of panic through him so pronounced he'd managed to jerk himself almost out of Takashima's grasp altogether.

Almost. The bastard had been incredibly strong; or Saruhiko had just been even weaker than he'd already felt he was.

"Shh, shh, shh. Not yet."

"Saya!?" he'd cried out, even as he'd heard the others calling for him in the distance.

"Shh. Don't worry, she's not gone far. Well, too far. We'll get to that in a minute. Right now a gang of wild hoodlums have appeared! Isn't that exciting?"

It would amaze him later that some part of him had still been trying to figure out what Takashima had been talking about when he couldn't find his daemon. He'd still been able to sense her, somewhere near the boundary of how far their bond could stretch, but he hadn't been sure what direction the eagle had taken her in—and he'd known the eagle had her, because he could still feel those talons.

As for the 'gang of wild hoodlums', he'd known that he _should have_ known what that meant, the concept within his grasp but just not staying put with only the weak grip he'd been able to hold it with. Only one part of the thing had been understood.

"Misaki?"

_I'm dying, Misaki._ We're _dying—where are you?_

_Are you with_ them _?_

_Looking at_ him _?_

_Seeing only_ him _?_

_Are you... ?_

"Saruhiko!"

That voice. At first he hadn't been sure that in his state he hadn't imagined it, but once he'd heard his name called again, and closer, coming from the same place that skateboard had been rolling, he'd known for sure that Misaki had actually been there.

The relief he'd felt had been stupidly intense. It hadn't been like he'd really been dying; not at that point, at that point he'd only been disoriented by Saya's absence and she hadn't been taken nearly far enough away from him nor for long enough that permanent damage would have started to set in. Nor like Misaki would have been more of a help than he himself could have done.

But he'd been there, and that had meant far more than it should have.

Indeed, he'd been able to focus more on his surroundings almost immediately. Takashima had taken him to the steel frame of the abandoned building, sat himself on a loading truck that had long since been stripped of all its valuable parts with Saruhiko still in his arms and practically sitting on his lap.

That realisation had made him struggle again, especially when he remembered that the man had kissed him out of nowhere before he'd knocked him out. It hadn't felt particularly sexual, but it had definitely been predatory, and at that moment Saruhiko had wanted nothing more than to be as far away from that man as possible.

He also hadn't wanted Misaki or any of those thugs he hadn't trusted to see him in such a humiliating position. But he'd been weak as a kitten against Takashima's grasp, and all to soon he'd heard the others approaching.

_Get back_ , another part of him had wanted to tell them. _Just get back and leave me._

_Misaki. Don't let him do this to me, Misaki._

_Get the hell out of here._

_Don't let him hurt me._

Those contradictory wishes alone had been giving him a headache. Hearing Misaki cry his name again had made the pain all the more potent, and at the same time all the sweeter.

"Saruhiko!"

"Saya! Saya!"

Kiki too had been calling out, and sounding pretty hysterical for all Saya had said she'd never really liked them. But then, Saya always had been a liar.

Fuck. Where _was_ she?

"Yata, stop—don't get any closer!"

Kusanagi had been there too, by the sound of that. Slowly, blinking against the light that had been so dull and yet somehow so painful, Saruhiko had turned his head and saw them approach.

The motorcycles had ground to a halt with what looked to be the entire inner circle of HOMRA dismounting from them. A few metres back, the Clan's one car had stopped, letting Totsuka, Suoh and their daemons get out, and Saruhiko had just been able to see a blur of white and red staying in there that had let him know Anna was there too.

At first he'd been surprised Suoh had brought her, but then he'd realised she had probably been the one who'd lead them there—probably had been the reason they'd known he'd been taken in the first place; it was the kind of thing she always knew.

Their footsteps had crunched on the stones and mud as they'd run towards him.

"Ah, ah, ah, little Reds," Takashima had said silkily. "That's close enough."

"Saya!?" Kiki had shouted, far more upset than Saruhiko had ever heard her. He'd supposed it was the principle of the thing. "Misaki, I don't see Saya!"

"Saya-chan is safe," Takashima had assured them. "For now."

There had been more footsteps, from someone who'd been further back. Suoh and Kusanagi had come to the front with Kol padding alongside them, growling in a way that had been very unlike the usually silent beast.

"Safe?" Kusanagi had said. His voice had been more... emotional, than Saruhiko had ever heard it. More angry, more upset, more fearful—it might have seemed odd he'd lost such composure for Saruhiko's sake, but then, that too had probably been the principle of the thing. "Fushimi-kun looks like he can barely breathe. How can his daemon possibly be safe?"

And that had been when Saruhiko had noticed just how much physical pain his chest had been in.

_That can't be good_ , he'd thought.

"Oh, you worry too much, Ni-san," Takashima had laughed. "Just look at him—skinny looking guy, right? A little workout will be good for him!"

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Misaki had yelled angrily. "Where the fuck is Saya!?"

Behind him, Takashima had sighed, and he'd felt rather than seen him grin as he adjusted his grip on Saruhiko slightly. Saruhiko had made another pathetic attempt at a struggle, but Takashima hadn't even seemed to notice it.

And then, head extending forward a few inches, he'd let out a clear, sharp whistle.

A moment later, that whistle had been answered by an eagle's cry, emanating from far above their heads.

That alone had made Saruhiko shudder, as he'd seen out of the corner of his eye the various heads of his HOMRA would-be rescuers tilting up.

"Light it up, Totsuka—I can't see—"

Like huge fireflies, Totsuka's weaker flames had fluttered out to light up the entire area in answer to Kusanagi's order, and Saruhiko couldn't see what was behind and above him with Takashima's huge shoulder in the way no matter how hard he craned his neck, but he hadn't needed to when Bandou's voice had helpfully clued him in.

"Oh shit—he's got her halfway up that tower!"

Kiki had made a ridiculous noise of distress. "Get her down! She's too far away from Saruhiko up there!"

"Too far, you say?" Takashima had exclaimed, in a theatrical voice that let everyone know how stupid Kiki's comment had been. "Oh no! Fushimi-kun must be in pain. What kind of monster could possibly have done such a thing?"

Someone else had tried to come forward then; probably Misaki, but Saruhiko's eyes had been closed because of the pain at that moment.

"Ah-ah!" Takashima had stopped him. "Now, what did I just say?" He'd clicked his tongue. "Wow. You people must be even dumber than I'd heard. But no worries, I'm sure I can spell the reality of the situation out so even you can get to grips with it. The crux of the matter is..."

He'd paused for suspense or something, or maybe he'd just forgotten what he'd been about to say, Saruhiko hadn't really cared why. Especially not once he'd heard what Takashima's set-up had truly entailed.

"If my Jacko drops little Saya... she falls straight into the river. You try to approach him, he drops Saya. You come at me, he drops Saya. You kill me with your super-Red powers, Jack poofs into dust, Saya falls. Saya falls? The river that's swollen up with all that pesky rain we've been having carries her away at approximately a _shitload_ of miles per hour, and all of you get to see what happens when the bond between one of your people and their daemon goes 'snippity-snap'."

Takashima had snapped his fingers for emphasis. Several of the others had flinched.

"And I hear that's not pretty. Now, in every permutation of this scenario, I teleport away only to return later once I've snatched a different one of your people and we start the game again. Except the version where I'm dead, obviously, but the important thing is it doesn't have to go down that way. There is a way for you to get ickle Fushimi-chan back safe and sound. Assuming you want him back; I mean, we haven't known each other long, but he does seem like kind of a buzzkill."

"... fuck... you..." Saruhiko had managed to choke out.

"Aww, I'm just kidding, little Red-chan."

Once again Misaki must have let his anger control him because he'd made to do exactly what Takashima had said would induce him to drop Saya into the river and started towards him—it had taken fucking Kamamoto of all people holding him back to ensure that that hadn't happened, while Chiaka had leapt off Kusanagi's shoulder to grab a hold of Kiki as she'd copied her human's actions. Kusanagi himself had thrown his arm out to stop Yata from struggling against Kamamoto's grip.

In all honesty if Saruhiko hadn't been concentrating on keeping his breathing even to try and lower the stress of the separation from Saya, he might have laughed. _That's it,_ Misaki, he remembered thinking. _Go on and get me killed. Claim your victory for HOMRA over my corpse. How long would you even remember my name for after that_?

"What do you want from us?" Kusanagi had asked. His face, what Saruhiko had been able to see of it, had looked impassive, but there had still been a slight waver in his voice.

"From your Clan? Nothing. From your King now, that's another story. Hey there, Suoh Mikoto." Takashima had moved one hand away from Saruhiko's body to wave quickly. "Nice to meet you. King number three, huh? Must be tough. To know you're third rate, I mean—but hey; it could be worse. You could be _fourth_ rate, after all. Like a certain—"

"I understand," Kusanagi had interrupted. "You want the Red King to kill Munakata Reisi for you."

Saruhiko had felt Takashima shift with surprise.

"Wow, your Clan did have a brain in it after all. Excellent deduction—that is exactly what I want."

A stillness had spread through the air. The silence it brought had lasted what felt like far too long.

The Red Clan had never been the types to live by research and the acquisition of knowledge; unless they'd really needed to know something, they hadn't been all that bothered to find it out—which had been one of the really stupid things about Misaki joining their little club; he'd had no fucking clue what it had even been about at the time except that it had been 'cool' and they'd got powers.

Where did the power come from? Who cared—powers!

But despite that, there had been a general knowledge in the Clan about what had happened to their predecessors and how the Kagutsu Crater had been formed; including the involvement or, if you wanted to point fingers, lack of involvement from SCEPTRE 4. Saruhiko at least had known or had heard at any rate that the reason the previous Blue King hadn't killed Kagutsu before he'd gone nuclear, had been that the force necessary to do so would have possibly caused the same reaction in himself. And so it had happened the other way around.

So supposedly, killing Munakata would also have damaged Suoh. However, even forgetting that, the political consequences of any King killing another could not be overlooked. The Gold King for one would likely not have been too impressed by that turn of events.

Of course, if there was one King who could overlook the consequences of any action, it would have been Suoh Mikoto.

"You think that will solve your problems, then?" Suoh had asked. A stranger might have thought he'd sounded bored, but Saruhiko had spent at least enough time around the man to know there'd been hostility beneath that bored tone; hostility he didn't think he'd heard with that kind of intensity before.

"If it's not too much trouble," Takashima had said lightly. "You only just met, so I wouldn't have thought it would be all that heart-wrenching—unless it was love at first sight, and if that's the case, then what the hey! I'm not going to judge you. Me and Fushimi-chan here will be glad to be martyred for your love. But if it's anything less than that, maybe you could bring me back his severed head so I know you've done the job? Something like that?"

Suoh had snorted, rocked back on his heels, then forward, then met Takashima's eyes smirking.

"You want me to bring you proof too, huh? Well, there may be a problem there. See, if I were to kill the Blue King, I don't think there'd be much left to identify. We have a certain motto in this Clan."

"Not to worry, Suoh Mikoto, I believe every problem has a solution."

Apart from Suoh, who'd turned his head slowly and looked away again after like he hadn't cared about what he saw at all, everyone there had whirled around sharply in the direction that last sentence had come from, because it hadn't come from Takashima.

As silently as he'd done back in the bar, Munakata Reisi had appeared there in the full Blue regalia and unaccompanied by a daemon, his presence at that site enough of a distraction in itself that Saruhiko hadn't bothered to try and work out how he'd known to find them there. Takashima had tensed ever so slightly, and Saruhiko had been pretty sure he'd momentarily lost his grin at the same time. Munakata, in contrast, had been smiling pleasantly, though by the looks of things that smile had been directed at Suoh.

Whether smiling for a man who'd just said he'd kill you violently enough that your body would be unrecognisable was more or less creepy than doing so for a man who'd murdered your subordinate hours earlier, Saruhiko didn't know.

"Ah, Blue King!" Takashima had called. He'd made the effort to sound casual, but he'd also shifted in a way that had given Saruhiko the distinct impression he'd been very uncomfortable. "I see I didn't get too much of your Clansman's brains on you earlier; unless that's a new coat, and if it is, what can I say? I will pay for that dry-cleaning bill, Munakata-san, that shit looks expensive."

Munakata had kept smiling, but he had seemed anything but amused. There'd been a drawn-out pause before he'd even turned his head away from Suoh to look at Takashima, and then he'd left things silent for another moment.

Saruhiko had, by this point, only been able to acknowledge the proceedings, not to analyse them. In retrospect, that had probably been for the best. He didn't think he'd have been too optimistic about his chances with the Blue King right then.

"Takashima Natsuhiro," Munakata had announced, sounding almost artificial. "In accordance with protocol 120 I will be taking you into custody. Refusal to comply will be met with force."

Takashima had laughed.

"I don't suppose you need your prescription checked, four-eyes? I do have a hostage here."

Saruhiko remembered having the vague realisation that his own glasses had been lost at some point. Munakata's face had been blurred as he'd cocked his head.

"The distance between your hostage and his daemon seems uncomfortable, but not life-threatening," he'd observed.

"Oh, really? You may think so for a bird, or even for a mammal, but a lizard? Reptiles like to stick close. Still, if you're so sure..."

He'd whistled.

First, Sarhiko had felt the impression of the eagle's talons around Saya's body tighten. Then, as if through her ears he'd heard the sound of two huge wings opening, and known what had been about to happen, tensing up in anticipation of the pain.

Even then, he hadn't been able to stop himself from screaming when the eagle had flown up to the next level of the tower and taken Saya with him.

"NO!" Misaki had screamed at the same time, lighting himself up enough to burn Kamamoto's arms so that he'd let him go, only to run smack into a barrier of blue light that had formed between the Red Clan and the truck Takashima was holding Saruhiko on. Saruhiko had registered the impact, but the blue light itself had been far more noticeable. He hadn't seen what Suoh's reaction to that interference had been in its entirety, but there had been an answering flash of red.

Even fucking Takashima had grit his teeth at that point. Flight-capable daemons were always able to travel further from their humans than land animals, but they had their limits nonetheless. It had seemed the eagle had finally been starting to push at his.

The only person this hadn't seemed to affect in the least, had been Munakata. All he'd said, had been—

"Takashima-san, I'm not sure that was entirely wise."

Well, you couldn't fault the man for not being hysterical. That had been more what Saruhiko had felt, on top of the sensation that his chest had been about to burst. He wasn't sure if he'd laughed out loud, or just in his head when he'd heard the Blue King say that.

The man still holding on to him like a snake coiled around its prey had gone still for a second, then said:

"Oh, no—do continue, Munakata-san, I value your advice. Do you think _that_ distance would be life-threatening?"

"Not in itself. But prolonged separation may cause a fatal stress reaction after a few hours. That's why I would urge you to release your hostage and compel your daemon to return his, then give yourself up to our custody. You should be aware that in the case of you posing an immediate and significant danger to the lives of others, regulations will permit me to use lethal force in the course of your arrest."

"And let this little Red-chan die as well, screaming in agony?" Takashima had pointed out. "Actually, for all I know your regulations do permit that. Maybe you Reds should step in and do something? Killing this guy would solve all our problems; I'm just saying."

Munakata had taken a few steps forward.

"Please, Takashima-san, I don't think even the Red King would be reckless enough to engage in a life and death battle with me, here, where his Clansmen are vulnerable and mine are nowhere to be seen."

And if he had been that reckless, hopefully that had been a big enough hint to get him to think twice about doing things that way; Saruhiko for one hadn't had any desire to be burnt up in a crossfire.

"Which still leaves us," Takashima had said, "with the problem of the Red slowly dying of separation shock."

"As I said before, that will take hours."

"Hours, huh?" That had been when the slightest little bit of panic had finally made its way into Takashima's voice. "How about now?"

He'd whistled.

This time the sharpness of the bond pulling Saruhiko apart from his very soul had been too intense to be expressed by a single scream. The first one had risen in pitch until within a second Saruhiko's voice had no longer been able to produce it, prompting him to suck in a huge, stuttering breath and scream again.

Shaking within Takashima's arms, he'd found himself mirroring the moves Saya had been making as she'd tried to writhe out of the eagle's grip despite the horrible death that awaited them if she was dropped. Fortunately that had been to no avail, he'd carried her up to the next level without trouble.

"STOP IT!" Misaki had all but shrieked at him, running into the blue barrier once more; then hitting it over and over again, in vain.

Saruhiko hadn't been able to see what had been going on around him; to one side was nothing but the blue light of the barrier, to the other the leather and buckles on Takashima's coat. In front and above him had been a night sky clouded over so thickly he hadn't been able to see a single ray of moonlight.

Fuck. He was going to die, wasn't he?

"Yes," Munakata had said calmly. "That should be enough. On my mark."

"What?" Takashima had asked.

"Takashima-san, in light of this development I must ask you to relinquish you hostage and surrender by the count of three, or I will be forced to take the action previously mentioned."

"The whole lethal force thing?"

"Precisely."

Takashima had scoffed. "I don't believe you."

"One."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Two."

"I think I'll have Jack take her up another level, see if that'll do the trick."

"Three."

 

~*~*~

 

BANG!

 

~*~*~

 

Chaos had quickly ensued.

Saruhiko swore he had been able to see the bullet as it had passed over his head and into Takashima's, throwing the man backwards onto the loading platform as his brain matter had splattered over the truck, black under the light of Totsuka's fire butterflies. His grip hadn't loosened in time, however, for Saruhiko to avoid being pulled with him, on top of the man who had so suddenly become a corpse.

"Graziano!"

The first time Munakata's voice had had any sense of urgency in its expression, the name he'd called had been called alongside several other things happening simultaneously.

First had been Kiki screaming, "SAYA!" at the top of her wolverine's lungs.

Second, Takashima's eagle daemon had collapsed into so much gold Dust, and Saya had fallen from the tower.

In that moment, it had actually been a godsend. As she'd travelled down storey by storey the bond she shared with Saruhiko had relaxed enough for him to finally breathe—just the one breath as he'd broken free of Takashima's now lifeless arms and lurched up to try and catch sight of her before she hit the water.

Only she never had.

The final event in that blink-and-you'd-have-missed-it chain had been the silent shadow that had swooped in from the top of the cliff adjacent to the construction site and, with deadly accuracy, caught Saya in its claws as she'd fallen. It had looped around once as Saruhiko had convulsed from that shock—their saviour had not been gentle—and flown straight towards them.

One moment later, the new bird had slowed its descent just before Saruhiko and released Saya from its grasp and into Saruhiko's shaking arms.

Body coursing with adrenaline, Saruhiko had brought Saya close enough to his chest that she'd leapt inside his shirt collar and curled around his neck in a single, quick, motion, giving him the chance to finally tumble off Takashima's body and run. Or it would have done had his body not also been so weakened by the experience that as soon as he'd slid off the truck, he too had fallen.

And then, effortlessly, the Blue King had caught him.

"We must stop meeting like this," he'd told him, softly enough that only the two of them had heard it.

"Oh, thank fuck," someone had said. Saruhiko had only known it hadn't been him because his voice hadn't been working, but it had summed up his feelings nicely.

Saya had said nothing, unused to having to find words that weren't taunts and in a situation where there'd been no call for taunting. Lizards didn't shiver, but she'd breathed heavily against her human's skin and let their normally so chaotic mind rest for just a while, pacified by the relief that that ordeal had been finished.

Thus, Saruhiko had been lifted up into the Blue King's arms and taken back towards HOMRA. He should have been embarrassed by that, but hadn't had the presence of mind to summon up such complex feelings. Only a kind of distant relief as he'd heard Misaki's voice.

"Saruhiko!"

"Misaki." He'd only been able to mouth the name.

"Saruhiko, are you all right? You're fine, right? Saya's okay?"

"She's bleeding a little," Munakata had said calmly. "Graziano's talons have sharp edges. But she should be fine."

An unfamiliar male voice had said, "My apologies."

"Nonsense," Munakata had replied. "You did a fine job. I'm only sorry I had to try to get Takashima to take this Red Clansman's daemon up so high, but we couldn't risk her falling into the river before Graziano could reach her."

"An owl," Kusanagi had said. He'd been closer to Saruhiko than Saruhiko had realised with his eyes all but shut. "Not that I don't think he suits you, but I'm surprised the answer was that simple."

Munakata had chuckled a little. "Oh, Graziano's not _mine,_ " he'd said.

"Captain!"

A woman's voice in the distance had been followed by the sound of someone running on gravel from the same direction. Behind Saruhiko, the bird that had rescued Saya from certain death—apparently an owl, and it must have been a large one—had flown off in the direction of the approaching figure.

"Ah, Awashima-kun. Gentlemen, this is Awashima Seri, my first lieutenant. Awashima-kun, meet HOMRA. You weren't too distressed by that separation, I hope? It was quite a long way."

"Such a thing was entirely beneath my notice," the woman had replied. She'd been breathing heavily though.

Saruhiko remembered Kusanagi muttering, apparently to Suoh, "Is it me, or did it suddenly just get colder?" as Munakata had continued speaking to the woman.

"Well, it was good work nonetheless."

"Akiyama struck the target?"

"With consummate accuracy. We were very lucky."

"Lucky!?"

Hearing Misaki start yelling angrily should have been par for the course, but Saruhiko had been startled by the sudden loud noise in his ear and flinched away, while the arms he'd been lying in had gathered him closer, and away from the source of the noise. Probably Misaki had seen his reaction because he'd lowered his voice for his little rant, though he'd still proceeded with it.

"You could have killed him! What if your shooter had missed?! Or that owl?! You don't have the right to interfere in HOMRA business like that just because you wear those fancy uniforms and play dogs to the Gold Clan! If anything had happened to Saruhiko I would have killed you no matter how powerful you are—hey! Don't walk away!"

Had they been moving? Saruhiko had felt so... steady.

"I believe this belongs to you," Munakata had said.

Before Saruhiko had realised he'd been addressing Suoh and gathered the will to protest, he'd been summarily transferred into the arms of the Red King, who'd immediately slung him over his shoulder, sending a wave of nausea through his head. Munakata had gone on to say—

"I'd suggest a hospital visit to ensure there are no complications, but somehow I don't think that kind of surety is your modus operandi."

"Says the guy who just pulled off a very risky move," Suoh had replied—that voice coming from the man carrying him anything but comforting to Saruhiko. "You know, Munakata, if this is the kind of trouble you're going to cause for my people, maybe we _should_ have that whole battle to the death. Seems like a few of your people have crawled out from under their rocks to make up for how _vulnerable_ my people were."

"What a barbaric suggestion," Munakata had replied, sounding like he'd still been smiling. "But I suppose that was to be expected from you. Do take care."

He must have walked away at that point, though Saruhiko hadn't heard any footsteps, because Suoh turned around and he had soon been able to hear Munakata's voice speaking to his lieutenant over where Takashima's corpse had dropped.

"Is it okay to leave things like that, Mikoto-san?" Yata had asked.

Suoh had just shrugged and snorted in reply.

Soon enough, Saruhiko had found himself and Saya placed in the back of the car, his head resting on Anna's lap, which had been uncomfortable in part due to his not really wanting to get so close to the girl, but mostly because the lace on her dress had been irritating. Scheherazade had been some sort of white squirrel, but she'd shifted into a bearded dragon as soon as she'd seen Saya—perhaps trying to show camaraderie. Saruhiko hadn't known how to feel about that.

"You look after him, all right, Anna?" Kusanagi had said.

Anna had nodded solemnly.

"He'll be okay, won't he?" asked Misaki.

"We'll take him back to the bar and let him rest," Kusanagi had told him. "Chiaka can make sure neither of those birds did too much damage to poor Saya-chan, and they should be all right in a few days. If not, we can take him to a specialist, but I don't think it will be necessary."

"Hear that, Saruhiko? You're going to be fine. So pull yourself together, okay?"

It was funny, even now, but in his weakened state back then he thought he may have actually believed Misaki when he'd said that. Maybe because Saya had still been in too much shock to laugh at him for thinking that way. Maybe it had just been the echo of hopes he'd thought himself too clever to keep entertaining.

The rain had finally broken out of the clouds as the car had made its way back to the bar. He hadn't been thinking of anything in particular, just half-realised dreams of Misaki looking right at him and seeing what he was looking at for once, dreams of Takashima's eagle flying overhead, searching for Saya to take her away from him for good while Takashima laughed and dreams of a deep blue whirlpool pulling him out of the harsh glare of the sun. Summer had been almost upon them, after all. It had made him think that maybe he did need to take steps to get himself out of the glare.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he remembered Suoh carrying him back inside once they'd reached home; once again slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He'd been pretty sure it had been Chiaka who'd carried Saya in order to look her over, not something he'd been particularly comfortable with—he and Kusanagi had hardly had the kind of relationship where their daemons interacted regularly—but HOMRA had a limited number of daemons with opposable thumbs to work with.

He'd been put into a spare room with all the gentleness one might have expected from Suoh Mikoto, mitigated somewhat by Totsuka, who'd fussed over him for a while; but then, that hadn't exactly been comfortable either. They'd all left him alone, soon enough.

Well, all except one.

Misaki and Kiki had stayed with them, all night, and well into the next as long as Saruhiko had been asleep. At the time, he'd almost felt like it had meant something.

But they'd still left as soon as Saruhiko had woken up.

And so a few weeks later, Saruhiko had done likewise.

 

*~*~*

 


	3. Ophiophagus Hannah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed I got all the lines of the text in properly. Chapter 4 is finished and set to be posted next week, Chapter 5 is in the process of being written, enjoy Chapter 3 and thanks for all the kudos! XD

 

*~*~*

 

Even as far from that day as the end of that year's autumn, Saruhiko would still find Saya scratching at the mark on his chest as if trying to rub it off—those thin, slanted slivers of red that had narrowly escaped when the rest of the mark had burned. Sometimes he felt like running his hand across it again to paint over those bits he'd missed and yet something always stayed his hand. He liked to think it was because leaving the remnants of that mark served to emphasise what it was that had been burned away, and not—as Saya would taunt him with—because of some lingering sentimental attachment.

Saya had changed.

Not her species; it hadn't been a full shift or anything, in fact if anything it was worse than that. A daemon was considered 'settled' if it remained in the same form for over seventy-two hours, because they almost never continued to shift after that. A post-settling shift only happened when a person suddenly changed who they were—usually after some deep, traumatic incident that Saruhiko did not consider had happened to him that day they'd met the Blue King.

So Takashima had pulled him and Saya apart until it had hurt. So what? They hadn't pulled them all the way or anything. Besides, what happened with Saya had been happening even before that.

In the West they called them 'chimeras'. Saruhiko had seen a documentary on them once—daemons who were stuck between forms; the head of a rat on the body of a snake, the wings of a bat on a cat-headed parrot, a duck with the legs of a frog and a squirrel's tail. There was only one type of person who had a daemon like that.

Crazy people.

It was far less noticeable in Saya. Saruhiko himself hadn't noticed for the longest time, not until he'd had that message on his phone that at the time had read 'unknown number' and now read 'annoying boss'. _'Have you noticed her mouth?_ '

Fucking Munakata. He'd seen it as soon as he'd seen Saruhiko, more likely than not; the way Saya's tongue flickered out like a snake's, the two long, near-transparent fangs that had been growing from her top jaw, the way the scales around them had smoothed out like little pebbles—snake, snake, snake.

But the rest of her had still been a frill-necked lizard, and that meant Saruhiko had been going insane. Or was insane, because she still looked like that, and had two more thin patches of snake-like skin running along her back beneath her frill, almost like the slivers of the HOMRA mark that had been left on Saruhiko's chest.

"I've been doing my own research into the matter," Munakata told him one day, pausing to sip his tea as Saruhiko slouched by the doorway and waited for the blissful moment his King would stop fucking around and let him get back to work. "For obvious reasons I have not contacted an actual herpetologist, but I am almost certain the species Saya-chan has been hybridised with..." he was unable to hold back his grin, "... is a king cobra."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Great. I can pretend to be in the King's club with all the cool kids. You do know, Captain, in accordance with the Mental Health Act you're supposed to be reporting me to the appropriate authorities."

"I am the appropriate authority, in this case."

It was difficult not to roll his eyes again, and after everything this guy said for that matter. "You're a licensed psychiatric professional, are you?"

Munakata smirked. "Awashima-kun does often say I run a mad house."

Like that, for example. "I suppose I can't really say 'don't blame me when I finally snap and murder you'," Saruhiko muttered. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

"No, that will be all. But before you leave—were you aware HOMRA's inner circle has gained a new member?"

The very word 'HOMRA' made Saya's frill puff out, but Saruhiko tried to ignore that. It wasn't like it was a surprise or anything; they'd certainly replaced him with Bandou's baseball-capped childhood friend quickly enough after he'd left. He saw them sometimes, out in the city—the new guy with a daemon almost identical to Bandou's own, only with a white chest and collar. A pied crow, Yoshino from Information had informed them.

New people came to HOMRA all the time. New idiots in search of cool powers and a guy with a huge male lion as his daemon. 'One born every minute' as the saying went. It didn't really matter.

"A foreigner by the name of 'Eric Surt'," Munakata continued, once he was sure Saruhiko had nothing to say about it. "Yoshino-kun tells me his daemon is a fennec fox, which is interesting. I do hope they don't tease him for it; I know they're not especially fond of canines."

That made Saruhiko laugh morosely. "Those idiots? Like they even know a fox is canine. Misa—one of them once told me he didn't care if my daemon was a reptile, or 'even a snake'. Morons."

There was a knock at the door and Munakata took the opportunity to finish his tea after he'd ushered his next appointment in—Akiyama and Benzai and their daemons; a golden retriever and a bloodhound respectively.

"Captain," Akiyama greeted.

"Hi, Saya-chan," whispered the retriever. Saruhiko didn't really understand it, but that dog somehow had a soft spot for Saya. Maybe because of all of Munakata's kennel, Saruhiko found Akiyama the easiest to deal with. He couldn't even say there wasn't a hint of gratitude behind that ease; Akiyama had been the one to pull the trigger on Takashima after all. But that didn't mean he was looking to make friends with the guy.

Saya just crawled around Saruhiko's neck to use it as a barrier between herself and the retriever, unusually nervous around her. Her name was something Chinese, he was pretty sure, but he didn't pay much more attention to the kennel than he had to the rat's nest so the only name he did remember was Awashima's horned owl, Graziano.

He still hadn't seen any sign of a daemon on Munakata's part. From the gossip he'd managed to catch here and there around the complex, neither had anyone else in the Blue Clan.

"Captain, we've finished collecting the data on the most recent Weismann readings, we were hoping for your input," said Benzai.

"Of course. Do let me know what you think about my cobra theory once you've had the time to look into it, Fushimi-kun."

_I think it's stupid_ , Saruhiko thought, _that you're wasting so much time on it_ , but he didn't say so because he was happy enough that he was being let out of the man's office at last.

"Whatever," he said, and slid past Akiyama and Benzai to get to the door as the bloodhound shook her head in disapproval. Benzai himself just ignored him.

And there you had it, a typical interaction within the confines of the almighty SCEPTRE 4. The corridor Saruhiko stepped out into was wide and tall, lush with carpets that were cleaned every evening, lit with crystal-shaded fixtures that made the rooms soft and welcoming. The walls, all barred at waist height for an added sense of grandeur, were decorated at sparse intervals with paintings in both eastern and western styles.

The furniture was wooden, carved and varnished, and the windows were tall and in many places arched. It all served as a contrast to the simplicity of HOMRA and to quiet the little Saya-like voice in his head that had whispered _worthless, worthless, worthless_ at every given moment he'd been in that other place—as much to the people living there as to the place itself.

Here, SCEPTRE 4, was not worth that much to Saruhiko. But it was not a worthless place. He didn't particularly like the people there, but they had at least some purpose in their lives other than to hang on to the coat-tails of some asshole who could do magic tricks.

And speaking of, for all he didn't like Munakata that much either, at least he did something constructive with his powers. More than that though, from Saruhiko's point of view, he _saw_ him; saw Saya and what was wrong with her at first glance. He wasn't the person he wanted to see him, no, but at least he did see him, and that at least made him feel...

Made him feel...

"Can you really call him a person though?" Saya whispered in his ear as they rounded a corner. "Or only half of one? Maybe he isn't anything at all."

"Don't you start that," he muttered. In all honestly a fair number of the words he directed towards her were still variations on 'shut up'. "What was that with you and the retriever back there anyway? Are you afraid of dogs now?"

"I'm not afraid of her!" Saya snapped, tongue flickering. "I just... I just don't like the way she looks at me. The husky tries it too, in case you didn't notice."

He did notice that, but then, the husky's human—Hidaka—probably made more of an effort to socialise with him than any of the others so it wasn't that much of a puzzle.

"You don't like her either?"

"I don't _like_ any of them. But those two really annoy me, especially the retriever."

"Do you think you'd like the Blue King's daemon more, if you met them?"

Saya only shuddered in answer to that question.

"I thought so. I'm going down to the kitchen to get some coffee."

"Well, I guess I'm coming with you."

"Ha-ha."

The kitchen was one of the few modern-styled rooms in the building; spacious, and with an attached dining area separate from the main cafeteria that Saruhiko was annoyed to discover upon his arrival seemed to currently have been occupied by the entire Special Squad, minus the two who had been in Munakata's office, and Gotou and Hidaka, who were following up a lead on their only current case.

Just his luck the rest of the squad had chosen that exact moment to take their coffee break.

"Hi, Fushimi-san!" Doumyoji chirped happily, waving his whole arm up in the air as if to say 'look at me, I'm an idiot!'.

Yeah, the average IQ of a member of SCEPTRE 4 may have been greater than that of your average HOMRA punk, but there were always outliers on such a graph, and Doumyoji Andy was pleased to act as such for this troupe. God only knew what Munakata had been thinking when he'd recruited him; he was even underage on top of everything else.

True, so was Saruhiko, but then he didn't try to write up mission reports using stick figures. Although to be fair, that was probably a more desirable trait in a subordinate than being an insane person with a chimera for a daemon, so maybe Munakata was just fucking with them all.

Doumyoji's daemon was a fawn coloured pug that bounced on the spot and panted whenever she was excited; which was always, so she was doing it as Saruhiko entered the room, huge eyes bulging out at him ecstatically. There was a moment he was tempted to just walk straight back out again, but he really did want that coffee, so he clicked his tongue at the others and went straight for the cupboard without a word.

He didn't miss, out of the corner of his eye, the way Kamo and Enomoto looked worriedly towards Fuse while he was pulling one of their standard plain white mugs off the shelf. It was no secret that Fuse was the least welcoming towards him of all of them, even if it was hardly a massive problem for either man. Fuse had never gone past verbally rebuking him, actually did that less than some of the others come to think of it, and usually showed his contempt by just shunning him the way he would so much trash.

And Saruhiko couldn't blame him for that. He had come from HOMRA after all.

While he didn't have any interest in carrying on some kind of stupid feud with Fuse, Saya's love of conflict pushed her to puff her frill up and hiss at the other man while Saruhiko boiled some water. Her hissing dissolved into giggling after a moment or two looking at Fuse scowl, however, and Saruhiko managed to contain his feelings to a smirk.

Fuse's Doberman daemon met Saya's eyes for a moment, but she was a particularly aloof daemon and simply nudged her human's leg right afterwards as if to say it wasn't worth their time. Fuse went back to his own coffee forthwith, which had Kamo and Enomoto breathing subtle, but noticeable sighs of relief. The former's white borzoi and the latter's black standard poodle did likewise.

"Aww," Saya whispered. "No playing with the Doberman today."

"Don't worry, Saya-chan," Saruhiko replied softly. "I'm sure one of these days she'll take the bait and rip you to shreds like you seem to want so much."

He was joking, of course.

Mostly.

"Oh, look, Kuroh-kun, half the Special Squad is in here!"

Saruhiko turned around at the sound of the new voice to see Awashima and Graziano enter, accompanied by Zenjou and Yoshino from Information, along with their daemons. Yoshino was also carrying Zenjou's pet cat, Kuroh, in her arms the same way she had the night Saruhiko had first seen her outside Kusanagi's bar and mistaken her for one of Chitose's whores.

That had been the intention, obviously. Stick a woman outside HOMRA and dress her like a prostitute, give her an ordinary cat to hold so that her real daemon, a Yorkshire terrier, didn't raise any alarms by being, well, a dog, and let her collect as much information on their movements as she pleased.

In fact, if she hadn't seen Takashima grab Saruhiko that night and run into the bar to alert the Red Clan that one of their members had been abducted, then quietly watched while Anna had scryed for his whereabouts so she could report that location to Munakata, who knows what might have happened? It had seemed strange to Saruhiko after they'd met more formally that cute, glasses-wearing, timid-looking little Yoshino had been chosen for the undercover-as-a-prostitute job, but apparently she'd jumped at the opportunity.

Then again, she put mayonnaise in her drinks, so he guessed that just made her what half the Blue Clan actually were: sane and seemingly proper in bearing, secretly twice as loony as any given member of HOMRA. Go figure.

"Hello, boys," said Zenjou, his red-coated canid pulling a chair out for Yoshino. Or maybe for the cat; Saruhiko never had been able to figure Zenjou out. His daemon wasn't an immediately identifiable breed, and possibly wasn't even domestic at all. "Any coffee already on the go?"

In unison, Saruhiko's supposedly loyal colleagues turned their heads towards him. He clicked his tongue.

"I only boiled enough water for one cup," he said.

"Well, once it's done you can put _more_ water in and boil that too, can't you?" Awashima said.

"You can't do it yourself, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Of course I can do it myself," she told him, turning to look at Grazianon and stroking his chest so Saruhiko wouldn't get the idea that this matter was important to her or anything—an effort somewhat ruined by the way the owl was glaring at him. "But I'm asking you. Are you saying you won't do it?"

The switch on the kettle flicked off to show that the water had boiled. Saruhiko poured it into his own mug and stirred in the coffee with a forced smirk.

"Oh, no—of course I'll do it, _sir_ ," he told her. "I _live_ to serve."

He could tell instantly his behaviour was annoying Fuse, and Zenjou was irksomely inscrutable, but Awashima just nodded and said, "Thank you, Fushimi-kun," in a particularly dry voice.

Still, he did it—even ignoring Saya's suggestion that he should spit in the kettle first. Mostly because he didn't think he'd get away with it, but partly because it seemed too petty even for him. Awashima and her daemon had saved their life, after all, and while he didn't feel as grateful to them for it as he did to Akiyama because of their irritatingly strict, no-nonsense demeanour... or even grateful at all for it most of the time, he didn't want them (or more likely anyone else) to start bringing it up and whining about it.

"Are you prepared for this evening?" she asked him, after a short pause.

"Why, what's happening this evening?" he returned, as if he didn't already know.

She glared. "Don't mess around with this, Fushimi. The Red King may tolerate you being what you are, the others might not be so relaxed—and all of them except the Silver King will be there. If you make any kind of scene while we're there, there will be consequences."

Saruhiko hadn't been planning on doing anything like that at the meeting that was to happen later on that evening; had managed to block it out of his thoughts almost completely for most of the day, but, "If you're so worried about it, why not take Akiyama instead?"

"Believe me, the suggestion did not go unsaid. But the Captain wouldn't hear of it, so you're going, and you _will_ behave."

"If you say so," he said. He injected the slightest hint of doubt into his words though, just to keep Awashima on her toes.

But she just rolled her eyes.

At that point, and apparently unwilling to allow there to be awkward silence in his presence, Zenjou got up from their table and made his way over to the fridge, leaving his daemon at the table.

"Mostly milk with a hint of coffee for you, am I right, Yoshino-kun?" he asked.

Yoshino blushed. "A saucer of milk for Kuroh-kun too."

And just like that, the tension evaporated.

"Ah, it's not good for him," said Zenjou, pulling the milk out of the fridge. "He can have one at Christmas. Lieutenant, do you know if it's true what they're saying about Miwa Ichigen?"

Awashima sighed. "The Captain believes so. He could have years left for all we know, but the information we've heard indicates that the illness is terminal."

"Then we might have a new Colourless King soon."

"Well, I'd hope it would be soon. As I understand it the gap between the former Captain's death and our own ascending to his throne was unprecedented."

Zenjou sighed grimly. "Quite. Word from the Rabbits was that was due to the shock from the Kagutsu incident, but I don't know if we can trust what they say—fucking cryptic assholes."

He passed Saruhiko in order to take three more mugs down from the cupboard, and Saya crawled around the back of Saruhiko's neck so that there was always a barrier between them. Saruhiko saw Zenjou's daemon watching this without any emotion that he could detect. He tried not to burn his tongue as he sipped his coffee.

"The Colourless King doesn't really have a Clan, does he?" Yoshino asked.

"He has one Clansman; the Black Dog," said Zenjou. "A sixteen-year-old boy who I believe is also a Strain. Might be seventeen by now actually. Nonetheless not to be messed with, by all accounts."

"What accounts would those be?" asked Fuse.

Zenjou grimaced. "The Rabbits again," he admitted.

"Are you three going to be all right going to the tower, in that case?" Enomoto asked, a little nervously.

Awashima raised her eyebrows. "Well, I shouldn't think Miwa Ichigen of all people would order his Clansman to attack us. We're far more likely to encounter trouble from the Greens or HOMRA, if being in His Excellency's presence doesn't cow them. What was Miwa's daemon again? A beaver?"

" _Enhydra lutris_ ; a sea otter," said Yoshino. "Named Darmok."

Doumyoji whistled in appreciation. "You do know your stuff."

"Oh, I just like researching daemons," Yoshino said, still blushing.

"Does that mean you know what the Captain's daemon is!?"

Well. The conversation had been getting tedious, if one were to ask Saruhiko, but that perked everyone right up, because if anyone knew what Munakata's daemon was—or if he had one at all—it would have been the Information Division. He glanced up from his bitter coffee and took note of how Yoshino, Kamo and Enomoto were all looking down like Doumyoji had asked an unacceptable question.

It wasn't unacceptable to ask about a person's daemon, of course. Much fun was had in speculation over the subject when it came to semi-anonymous online personalities. Votes were cast on what people thought famous children's daemons would settle on—or on certain 'what's my child's daemon?' sites, any child whose parents were dumb enough to post their information. But in the case of Munakata, Saruhiko thought some of the Blue Clan might have constructed this 'no one talks about the Captain's daemon' thing out of a misplaced sense of propriety; like if he'd wanted them to discuss whatever his situation was, he would have explained it already.

That was total crap, of course. Anyone with eyes could see the guy loved keeping people guessing.

"Don't be stupid, Doumyoji," said Fuse. "No one knows about that."

Doumyoji huffed a little and his daemon whined. "There's no harm in asking, is there?" he asked. "I mean, it is kind of weird."

"Doumyoji-kun—"

"—I think they're separated," Zenjou interrupted, before Awashima could reprimand Doumyoji, or whatever she'd been about to say. Once everyone was quiet, he added, "If you ask me, Captain's got witch's blood in him."

"There _are_ no witches anymore," said Fuse.

"So far as you know," Zenjou countered. "But they could go miles and miles away from their daemons. Always birds, always flying off somewhere—I reckon he stands on the roof at night and sees her—or him, I suppose—in secret; laughs about the rest of us thinking he's a ghost or a vampire or some mythical creature."

As if a witch wasn't practically a mythical creature. Still, separation was one of the least stupid explanations Saruhiko had heard for it. It was a recorded ability of the northern European 'witch' tribes, though thought to be lost. He supposed Munakata could have figured out how to do it.

"What bird do you think would suit the Captain best?" Doumyoji asked, grinning.

"Something powerful, I imagine," said Kamo. "An eagle, maybe."

Saruhiko snorted. The only two people he knew of with eagles for daemons were Takashima and the Gold King, and he didn't see Munakata emulating either of them. Or, for that matter, any raptor. There was just something about them that seemed too... overt.

"No, I think he'd be more manoeuvrable, like a peregrine," said Fuse.

"Like a penguin!?" said Doumyoji, bewildered.

" _Pe-re-grine_ ," Fuse repeated. "You know, a peregrine falcon? Fastest animal on earth when diving."

Enomoto frowned. "Mm, I think he'd have something more clever; like a parrot."

"Surely Captain Munakata would not be so ostentatious," said Awashima, now seemingly unbothered by this conversation and apparently curious herself. After a pause she offered her own suggestion. "A crow is an intelligent bird by all accounts."

Rolling his eyes, Saruhiko drank more of his coffee and hoped none of them made note of Saya giggling under her breath. Bandou had a crow daemon, after all, and he was an idiot.

"But that seems almost too dull," said Yoshino. "If I had to pick a bird that would suit Captain Munakata best, I'd say... something from the _Ardea_ genus. A heron."

Somehow, Saruhiko felt that was the least stupid suggestion so far. But at the same time, it still felt wrong, and he didn't really expect any of them to say something that felt right. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the idiocy of whatever Doumyoji had decided to say when he slapped the table in front of him like he'd had an epiphany.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed. "The Gold King has a golden eagle, right? So... wouldn't the Blue King have a bluebird!?"

It was unfortunate that Saruhiko almost ended up inhaling coffee when he heard that remark.

"Very good," he said, putting the mug down. "It's just like how I have 'Saru' in my name, and my daemon is indeed a monkey."

Saya laughed and flickered her tongue at the others for emphasis, but shrunk back when Zenjou passed them with the coffees for himself and the women made.

Doumyoji scowled and pouted in quick succession, then asked him; "Then what bird would you say he had, Fushimi-san, if you're so clever?"

"I'm sure we'd all like to know that," said Awashima.

She accepted her coffee from Zenjou and immediately took a sachet of red bean paste out of her pocket, opened it, and began squeezing its contents into the drink. Saruhiko wouldn't have minded so much only he knew she was probably going to stick at least another three of those in there. He clicked his tongue.

"I don't think the Captain's daemon is a bird," he said.

"Are you going to tell us what your theory is, then?" asked Fuse, somewhat tightly.

Saruhiko shrugged.

"Come on, I want to know too!" whined Doumyoji, daemon balancing on its hind legs in between bounces until the Irish setter put a paw on her head to calm her down, right about the same time Kamo did likewise for her human.

"I myself am very much intrigued."

Apart from Saruhiko and the cat's, every head in the room, daemon and human, swivelled towards the door no one had been keeping an eye on to see who'd spoken. Saruhiko could probably have guessed it was going to happen; speak of the devil and he appears, as they said in the west, and there in the doorway was Munakata himself, looking more amused than ever.

The others all froze up momentarily, until Awashima stood up out of her seat and saluted.

"Captain," she said. "Please forgive our impropriety."

The others then followed suit with standing, though Zenjou's salute was noticeably sloppy and Saruhiko rarely bothered with the gesture unless he was being surly.

"Awashima-kun," Munakata replied. "There is nothing to forgive. Trust me though, I was not being untruthful when I said I wanted to hear Fushimi-kun's thoughts on the matter. Will you share them with us, Fushimi-kun?"

He spoke as if he was giving Saruhiko an actual choice in that, but Saruhiko preferred to take the opportunity to snipe.

"I haven't really cared enough to give too much thought to it," he said, and it was pretty much the truth.

"Tell me your first impression then," Munakata said.

He shrugged, looked away, and then looked back—right into the King's eyes.

"A bee," he said.

Munakata's eyes widened, with what Saruhiko had an uncomfortable feeling could be called 'glee'.

"That's a good guess," he said.

"But wrong, I'm assuming."

"Oh, very wrong," said Munakata. "But I like it."

Saruhiko was torn between feeling further discomfort because of that, and enjoying the fact that Fuse was obviously annoyed that Munakata had praised him.

There was a little Saya-voice inside his head that often told him Munakata had only accepted him into his Clan to screw with HOMRA, and only showed him the favouritism he did to screw with the rest of SCEPTRE 4, because he just loved screwing with people like that.

But then there was also this feeling—he wasn't sure what it was—that told him that wasn't true.

And he believed it. And it bothered him, because he didn't have another explanation.

 

*~*~*

 

Later that evening the Mihashira Tower loomed tall ahead of them, lit up with the surrounding spotlights so it almost looked like it was glowing gold; many times the size of SCEPTRE 4 HQ, and of course, you could have fit Kusanagi's bar in the gift shop.

Yes, there was a gift shop. The tower was used for a number of different functions and apparently hosting school trips was one of them; as they saw for themselves when a number of high schoolers with ridiculously huge and heavy-looking backpacks, about a dozen or so, piled out of a bus across the plaza and were hurried into another entrance alongside a huge lorry. Saruhiko figured whatever they were there for, it was probably boring, so he made no comment about it even though he saw Munakata giving the group a strange look.

Awashima had no such compunctions, of course.

"Is now really the best time for the Golds to be hosting a tour group?" she asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure His Excellency knows what he's doing," said Munakata.

Saruhiko was sure the old geezer was something like a hundred years old by now, and probably demented, but whatever.

Somehow, they were the last to arrive. The day Munakata Reisi was late under anything other than unavoidable circumstances was the day Saruhiko started a charity to promote friendship between orphans, so it wasn't like they weren't on time. No, the surprising thing there was how the Reds actually _were_ on time for once, and already waiting in the lobby beyond the tower's entrance, where Suoh was having a scene with one of the Rabbits—a woman with some kind of polecat daemon. It was hard for Saruhiko to decide whether she or the polecat looked stupider in their little rabbit masks.

The Red King had brought the whole gang with him; Kusanagi, Totsuka, Anna, Kamamoto, Bandou, Chitose, Dewa, Fujishima—plus the guy in the cap and a new face in a pale hoodie who must have been 'Eric Surt'. Sure enough there was a sandy little creature with long ears crouching between him and Fujishima's daemon. Misaki was there too, and Kiallanta.

They didn't see him at first. _Of course_. But Saruhiko felt his fingers start to twitch and Saya hissed quietly.

"... why His Excellency would have a problem with that," Kusanagi was saying.

"There is no space for argument," said the Rabbit. "The Kings and their daemons are to enter this meeting alone. Your Clansmen may wait here if they wish, or they may leave."

"Oi, Rabbit!" snapped Misaki. "Who do you think you're talking to? We're not dogs like the fucking Blues; we're HOMRA! What makes you think you can make us do anything you say!?"

Saruhiko felt a grin pull painfully at his lips, and when he'd failed to bite it down, he called out—

"Don't worry so much, _Misaki_. I'm sure Munakata will explain all the big words so that even the Red King can understand them."

Every member of the rank and file turned around quickly to catch sight of who had dared suggest their precious King was the idiot he was, Misaki first and foremost. The ensuing expression that sudden rage twisted his face into was most gratifying.

"Saru!" he all but roared, venomous as the cobra Saya may have got her fangs from. Kiki leapt forward and snarled viciously at them, prompting Saya to do a quick crawl around Saruhiko's shoulders, giggling, as if it were a little victory lap.

But before Misaki could do more but let his Red aura flare up around his shoulders, Totsuka leapt forward to hold him back.

"Now, now, Yata-san," he said hastily. "Let's not cause any problems while we're in someone else's house."

"Munakata," Suoh greeted, smirking his stupid-looking smirk.

"Suoh Mikoto," Munakata returned. "You're looking well. Don't tell me you went to the trouble of _bathing_ just for an important meeting?"

Suoh snorted. "Braids in Kol's mane and everything," he said.

The lion at his side snorted and shook said mane. "Don't even joke, Mikoto," he said.

"And this must be Eric Surt," Munakata continued, eyes fixing on the new member. "We've heard much about you in my Clan. Very interesting, how you came to be a part of this group. One might call it heart-warming."

Saruhiko noticed immediately that Suoh's smirk slipped when Munakata began addressing Eric, and the amusement almost left his eyes entirely. Kol took a few steps forward, which might have been confused for his simply closing up the gap between himself and his human, but only if you were a moron who didn't see how it placed him protectively in front of Eric.

Eric himself looked less than unbothered by the Blue King's remarks. He was staring at him, eyes filled with more fear than Saruhiko would have thought warranted, even towards a guy who scared everyone but Suoh.

"Is there a problem?" asked Munakata.

"With you?" Suoh took a cigarette out of his pocket. "Always."

Tension coalesced within the room; possibly Suoh actually felt threatened by Munakata speaking to Eric given the only other Red Clansman he'd ever shown any interest in had been Saruhiko, more likely even he could tell Munakata was fucking with him and for whatever reason didn't like it this time. Something to do with whatever 'heart-warming' story Saruhiko hadn't bothered to learn about, maybe.

"Eric..." the little fennec fox whispered. "That man doesn't..."

"What?" Eric asked. The fox just shrunk back as Munakata's eyes fell on her.

Misaki stepped up. "He doesn't have a daemon, is what she was going to say!" he exclaimed. "This guy's some kind of freak—none of us have ever seen him with a daemon!"

Saya saw the opportunity immediately and nudged Saruhiko, who laughed as his hands continued to twitch with anticipation.

"Silly Misaki," he said, savouring how the fire in Misaki's eyes exploded when he used his first name. " _Androids_ don't have daemons!"

It was almost as satisfying to see that fire suddenly go blank.

"Androids!?" Misaki repeated. Where only a second ago the fire had raged, there was now a much colder uncertainty in his gaze, for those brief few moments he'd actually believe what Saruhiko was saying. Kiki just continued to growl angrily.

This time it was Munakata himself who broke the spell, though clearly with much amusement.

"Really, Fushimi-kun, you are incorrigible."

And the fire returned.

"Damn it, Saruhiko! Don't make fun of me if you don't want to end up in the hospital!"

Saruhiko just snickered to himself.

"Perfection," whispered Saya, just so he could hear it.

She began to laugh, but was cut off abruptly with a shriek of pain when Graziano fluttered around Munakata's back to give her a light peck on her side before flying back to a very severe-looking Awashima's shoulder. Saruhiko felt the sharp sting through their bond and flinched.

"Captain," Awashima said, not sparing Saruhiko a glance the entire time. "Perhaps it would be best not to keep His Excellency waiting."

It was an unwritten rule that it was the job of the second-in-command of both Red and Blue Clans to keep their Kings from too much pigtail-pulling at any given meeting. Saruhiko hoped the Gold King realised that when he had them barred from the room. The meeting, whatever it was about, was probably going to be half composed of their snark-filled flirting, and possibly physical violence, if the flirting wasn't reigned in enough by someone else.

He supposed Kusanagi and Awashima also did their best to prevent his own exchanges with Misaki from getting too heated. But those could hardly be called 'flirting'.

"As always, you get right to the point of the matter, Awashima-kun. Shall we, Suoh Mikoto?"

Suoh snorted again. "Wait here 'til I'm done," he told Kusanagi.

Munakata left Saruhiko and Awashima with no such order; indeed, he left no order at all. He simply walked straight into the throng of HOMRA, who parted like scared birds when he approached and allowed Suoh to lead the way into the lift, which the Rabbit entered alongside them.

Saya leaned close once the doors were closed. "Definitely the polecat who looks stupider," she said.

And with that, the proverbial cats—and the literal one, in Kol's case—were away.

"Can we leave now?" Saruhiko asked Awashima.

"Sit down and be quiet," she snapped.

Saruhiko sighed.

"Is that an order? I didn't hear the Captain say anything about it." He didn't wait for her to respond, switching his focus all together. "You'll be all right on your own for a few minutes, _Mi-sa-ki_? " he asked, grinning. "Separation anxiety isn't settling in? Suoh Mikoto will be a whole elevator-ride away, after all—what if you need permission to go to the bathroom?"

Misaki had had his skateboard in hand this entire time, but as soon as Saruhiko had finished talking he slammed it down against the marble floor.

"That's it, monkey—you asked for it!"

Sliding two of his knives out from beneath his sleeve, Saruhiko hoped to get at least one shot in before—

THWAP.

\--before Awashima struck him over the back of his head. One of the knives slipped from between his fingers and clattered to the ground.

"Ow!"

"Hey!" Misaki yelled, as Kusanagi grabbed him and hoisted him up by the back of his shirt.

Chiaka ran down Kusanagi's body and hopped onto Kiki's back, snapping her out of her former aggressive state with her hands over the wolverine's eyes.

"That's enough, Yata-chan," Kusanagi told him. "I know it's hard to listen to, but you'd only be causing problems for Mikoto."

With those magic words spoken, Misaki stilled and deflated with a pathetic looking pout. It made Saruhiko take on that rage, want to scream 'don't interfere!' at the asshole who was ruining Misaki's hatred, but then he had to deal with Awashima grabbing him by the ear and hissing:

"You make one more comment or do anything that would put a _scratch_ on another King's building and I will drag you back to Headquarters by your _hair_ and have Graziano carry your daemon for safe-keeping!"

She gave his ear a sharp tug.

"Do you understand me!?"

"Fine!" he spat out. Ordinarily he may have chosen to test her, but that last threat of Graziano kind of clinched it the other way. Given how they'd met, it was a blow below the belt, and Saruhiko was a little proud of the lieutenant for it. He squirmed out of her grasp to pick up the fallen knife.

Once she'd let go, Saruhiko put a few yards of distance between himself and either hers or her owl's talons. Misaki had turned his back to him, which was infuriating, while the rest of the trash stood around completely useless, and Anna was giving him a curious look. The look made Saruhiko uncomfortable, so he focussed his attention on the one person who was still speaking.

"... used to be part of HOMRA," he heard Fujishima quietly explaining to Eric

He gave Eric a big smile to let him know what a change for the better that had been, staring right into his eyes so that the blond quickly averted them back towards the lift Suoh and Munakata had left by. The same lift the fox daemon hadn't seemed to have taken her eyes off since it had taken the two Kings away.

It hadn't been ten seconds since he'd folded in the face of Awashima's threats. And yet he simply couldn't resist making another comment. The snake taking over the lizard, perhaps?

"Yes, I did move on to bigger and better things. You'd probably be accepted into SCEPTRE 4 yourself with a daemon like that," he told Eric. "If you ever feel like doing something worthwhile with your life."

" _Fushimi_!" Awashima shouted.

As he'd hoped, Misaki also responded, but not with anger.

"Hah!" he cried. "Shows what you know, monkey. Eric's daemon is a fox, not a dog!"

That irrepressible grin came right back onto Saruhiko's face.

"Foxes and dogs are in the same family, Misaki."

"Don't use my first name!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Eric interrupted. His Japanese was good, but then for all Saruhiko knew he'd lived in the country his whole life.

Misaki paused long enough to roll his eyes before answering, "Apart from those two, everyone in the Blue Clan has a dog daemon."

"Not everyone, surely," said Totsuka. Saruhiko could see Perikhadi's little face peeking out of his pocket and it made him wonder why he remembered her name. "I mean, it's a large organisation."

The gathering seemed to turn to Awashima for comment on that, Saruhiko included. She averted her eyes, muttering, "Zenjou-san has an Ethiopian wolf."

"And what about their King?" Eric asked. One could see he was particularly worried about Munakata's lack of daemon, and Saruhiko put that down to culture. Half the Western horror movies he'd ever seen involved people without daemons.

Come to think of it, those had always been the movies that had scared Misaki the most.

"The Captain's situation is none of your business," said Awashima firmly.

Eric blinked, then frowned. "You don't know either, do you?"

The slight twitch in Awashima's eyebrows said it all.

"Does it matter?" Saruhiko asked him out loud. "He hasn't eaten Saya yet, so I have no complaints."

"Prefers the taste of dog to lizard, maybe?" Saya cackled, loud enough for all to hear.

"It would explain what happened to all those missing underlings," Saruhiko agreed.

THWAP.

Awashima cuffed the back of his head again. "We don't have any missing underlings," she said, for the benefit of those members of the Red Clan who were beginning to look uncomfortable, "and the Blue King doesn't eat daemons."

"But you still don't know why he doesn't have one?" said Dewa, as if it was some kind of 'gotcha' moment. He knelt down to pet his own serval daemon's head and back as he got to the end of his sentence, keeping his eyes on Awashima in invitation for an answer he clearly didn't think she had.

Surprisingly, it was Kusanagi who interceded at this point, and with something that no one had expected to hear.

"Well, whatever his situation now, we do at least know he was _born_ with a daemon."

This was obviously news to more than Fushimi and Awashima. Apart from Anna and Totsuka and their daemons it seemed that everyone else there was surprised to hear Kusanagi say such a thing, and with Anna and Totsuka you couldn't always tell—Totsuka had raised his eyebrows at Kusanagi, for example, which could have meant he was surprised to hear that, or that he was surprised Kusanagi had chosen to say it.

If Saruhiko had to guess at why Kusanagi had chosen this moment to reveal whatever information he had, he'd have said it was for Awashima's sake. Although his eyes were on Saruhiko's.

"That's right," Kusanagi continued, as though suddenly remembering. "You left before we started our investigation."

The memory returned quickly. Suoh Mikoto blowing smoke and pretending disinterest. _"Don't suppose you could get to work on finding out what the deal really is? If not to stop these guys worrying about it, then so I get to see the look on his face when I ask for his daemon by name next time I see him?"_

"I do seem to remember the Red King asking you to find out about the Captain's daemon," Saruhiko said with a shrug. "I thought the Gold Clan had hidden that information too well though? Took his name out of the phone book and everything."

Kusanagi smiled. "I imagine you had other things on your mind."

"Kusanagi-san," exclaimed Bandou, crow daemon flapping about clumsily, "do you mean to say you actually know the truth about the Blue King's daemon!?"

"Or lack thereof?" added baseball-cap guy, whose own crow daemon had somehow managed not to have such a fit.

The Red King's grand bartending vizier looked first to his monkey daemon, and then back to Awashima to gage their reactions. Chiaka was unreadable to Saruhiko, but Awashima looked surprisingly curious to hear what he had to say. Not that it should have been too much of a surprise; only a few hours ago Munakata had told her outright he didn't mind people discussing this, and Awashima wasn't some fanatical devotee who would have demanded silence on the issue regardless.

No, she was too sensible for that. But somehow there was this niggling feeling in Saruhiko; like _he_ didn't want them to be talking about it—didn't want any of them to know. And Saya's frill began to extend in the corner of his eye.

"It's true the Gold Clan covered up Munakata-san's information beyond my powers to retrieve; at least for recent times. I was, however, able to see some of his elementary school records."

"You mean he wasn't grown in a lab after all?" Saruhiko asked.

Kusanagi just smiled more. "I had a conversation with a very nice retired teacher who had him in her third grade class; which he was suddenly pulled out of in the middle of the year. And she told me she remembered the incident quite well because there was an investigation into why his daemon had settled so early."

Settled in _third grade_? The average age for settling was fourteen; and fifteen to fifteen point five for boys specifically. Saya herself had settled less than a month before Saruhiko had joined HOMRA, Kiki over a year earlier before Saruhiko had met Misaki, but still around average. Third grade was _insane_. And yet, not unheard of, as Kusanagi went on to acknowledge.

"I mean, a lot of the time if a daemon settles that early it's because of an abusive home life, and they become something predatory and dangerous; often feral, but she said that definitely wasn't the case here because it seems there's an older brother who remained at the school and was perfectly normal. However, for whatever reason, Munakata didn't go back to that school, and if it wasn't the home life that was unusual..." he paused and smiled, "well, it must have been the child himself."

Well. That deserved a slow clap, Saruhiko thought.

"Well done, Kusanagi," he said sarcastically, while clapping. "You managed to reach the amazing conclusion that the Blue King is an unusual person. I don't know how you did it."

"I'll admit, Mikoto was a little disappointed," Kusanagi said with a laugh. "The teacher didn't remember the daemon's name or anything. Though she was pretty sure she was a 'she'."

A 'she', huh? It seemed to fit and not fit at the same time. Honestly, Saruhiko couldn't really imagine Munakata as a child, so he supposed an early-settling daemon made sense, even as early as seven or eight years old. It also seemed to lend credence to Zenjou's theory that the two of them were just Separated, even if it was difficult to see how he'd learned to do that. But he still didn't think that the daemon was a bird. And if a bee was 'very wrong', as Munakata had said himself, then what did that leave? Presumably not insects, and the only other flying creature Saruhiko could think of was a bat.

And a bat... no. No, Kusanagi had been right all those months ago, the day they'd met the Blue King for the first time. There was definitely something less than warm-blooded about him.

RING-RING. RING-RING.

He snapped out of his musing when he saw Awashima flinch; probably having been thinking just as hard about the same thing herself and suddenly distracted by her phone, which she pulled out of her jacket at once and glanced at.

"It's Hidaka," she announced, then answered the call. "Yes?" there was a long pause. "Does he understand that this falls under SCEPTRE 4 jurisdiction?" a shorter pause. "Put me on the line with him." She turned to Saruhiko quickly and said, "Stay. Here," like he was as much a dog as any of their underlings, then walked off towards the nearest corridor off the entrance lobby, speaking sternly. Her attention remained on the phone the entire time, but Graziano had his head swivelled around to watch the others. "Terusaki Shougo-san, do you know who you are talking to right now? Let me explain. The matter which you and your men are interfering with..."

Her voice trailed off as she got further and further away, becoming inaudible once she'd moved into the corridor and closed the door behind her, leaving Saruhiko alone with HOMRA's own excuse for crack troops and their bartending commander. And Anna, though she was more useful than most of the rest of them put together.

He smiled.

Misaki grit his teeth and kicked his skateboard up into his hands with annoyance.

"How much longer is this going to take?" he complained. Kiki growled in agreement

"It's only been like, five minutes," Chitose pointed out.

Both Misaki and Kiki groaned. _There's that separation anxiety_ , Saruhiko thought, and a quick look into Saya's dark eyes let him know she was just aching to exacerbate things—probably even more than he was.

But what to say...

"Hope the Captain isn't preparing for a _Lion King_ re-enactment," Saya commented outright, surprising Saruhiko and many of the Reds—daemons didn't usually just start speaking with strangers. " _'Long live the King'_. It's a long way down from the top of this tower."

Suoh Mikoto would have had no problem surviving such a fall. But the idea was still funny.

"Is that what he meant when he told us to 'Be Prepared' before we left?" he asked her.

Also to his surprise, Misaki let out a little laugh. "Saruhiko... if you think I'm going to stand here for the entire time our Kings are up there and listen to you talk shit about Mikoto-san, then you're not half as smart as you think you are."

Which would still have made him twice as smart as the rest of them, but Saruhiko had a more biting retort than that.

"I was only joking, Misaki," he said, faux-innocently. Kiki made an annoyed noise at the sound of Misaki's first name, but let him continue. "It's my attempt to get you used to the idea—since Suoh's Weismann level is deteriorating and you know the Blue King will only let that end one way."

_Clink._

Instead of an angry rebuttal from Misaki, Saruhiko was met with the sound of Kusanagi's lighter being flicked open, and immediately he knew he'd made a misstep. Misaki was too foolishly certain of Suoh Mikoto's greatness to have seen Saruhiko's words as anything he should worry about outside of the implied insult, but in Kusanagi he'd hit a nerve, and that was something he hadn't wanted to do.

Saruhiko knew he could be reckless, especially when he started listening to Saya. And part of his recklessness was not caring about the fact that he was reckless. But at the same time, he wasn't stupid enough to underestimate Kusanagi—who was fully capable of far more than just the kind of direct attack that Saruhiko held no fear of.

Chiaka was steady on her human's shoulder as he approached, passing Misaki who looked surprised enough that Kusanagi was actually responding that his own anger was forgotten, and walking calmly towards Saruhiko. Most of the Reds also seemed to realised that Saruhiko had crossed a line; Totsuka especially was looking from side to side for some inspiration he could use to prevent violence, with his hand outstretched hesitantly towards Kusanagi's shoulder.

His guinea pig daemon Perikhadi was the one who said it best though.

"Uh oh."

Totsuka stuttered hastily; "Now, now, Izumo—don't take things like that to heart. It'll all turn out all right..."

Unsurprisingly, the usual empty assurances were ignored and Kusanagi kept coming. Saruhiko was determined not to retreat in face of a guy he was pretty sure he could be an even match for in a fight, but he couldn't help but move his shoulders back a bit, and Saya extended her frill and hissed.

And that, gave Chiaka the perfect opening.

"Why Saya-chan," she said, startling them both into a wince by being the one to speak instead of her human, "what long, sharp fangs you have. I can't say Izumo and I are reptile experts, but somehow I don't think they suit you."

Saruhiko felt his blood run cold.

_They knew._

They must have known for a while—perhaps even since before he'd left HOMRA, and of course they'd done nothing because that was the HOMRA way as laid down by their Patron Saint Totsuka: just ignore everything and it would sort itself out, that's the way to do it!

It was counter-intuitive, that he should feel such... _fear_ , about Kusanagi realising this when there wasn't anything Kusanagi or even Suoh could do so long as Saruhiko was under Munakata's protection, and Munakata didn't seem to care about the chimera in his midst at all. Or if he did care, it was for his own twisted reasons.

But it felt so... so _private_ , or no, maybe that wasn't it. Munakata had brought it up almost as soon as they'd met and Saruhiko hadn't felt nearly as fearful—angry too. Yes, he could feel it twisting along with the fear, snake and lizard twirled around each other, and when he'd had that message— _'Have you noticed her mouth?_ ' there'd been... there'd been _elation_ , because someone had finally noticed.

Bastard. Bastard. All of them. Kusanagi knew the whole time and he'd said nothing, waiting to bring it out as a weapon and use it against him when the time was right— _you're crazy, you're broken, you're defective and not good enough to be worth the consideration of even the one person who_ —fucking lying bastard! Stringing him along; probably the others too, though they were too stupid to see it, and _why don't you see it, Misaki!? Why do you never see?_

He felt his whole body start to shake with the force his heart was beating with; tremble with fury and the conflict of the two auras within him each longing to break out and defend him; lizard and snake, blue and red, sane and insane—his fingers curling into fists that hurt with the pressure his nails were putting on his palms. Saya crouching down and slowly burying those snake's fangs into the thick fabric of his SCEPTRE 4 uniform's shoulder, pricking against his own skin because she had to bite _something_.

Blood tricking over the side of the bar in little rivulets. The little part of him yelling from almost too far inside himself to hear, _Get a hold of yourself! If you lashed out and killed someone in this state of mind, it might just be the one person you couldn't bear to lose!_

Fuck him. Fuck them all. He turned around and stormed towards the exit.

"I think Seri-chan ordered you to stay here," Kusanagi called after him.

Without even thinking about it; body feeling literally out of his control, Saruhiko slipped a knife out from beneath his sleeve and threw it, aura flaring up in a colour he later wouldn't remember.

Kusanagi caught the knife, the bastard. But it sliced one of his fingers enough to release a few drops of blood and Saruhiko left the building without further delay, panting with the exertion he needed to keep the furious screams from escaping him.

_Only cut Kusanagi, not the building, so Awashima should have nothing to complain about._

As he stumbled outside and the automatic doors shut behind him, he heard Misaki ask loudly, "What's a chimera?" and was almost tempted to go back inside, because if Kusanagi put some kind of idea into Misaki's head, like Saruhiko had only joined the Blues because he was crazy so Misaki should feel sorry for him and not hate him, he swore he'd kill the bastard. The Red King would burn him to a crisp if he was lucky, but he didn't care, he _would kill_ that smug little fuck.

He didn't pay attention to the direction he was going in as he half-strode, half-stumbled across the plaza, desperate to get away from HOMRA and away from the open air where birds could swoop down and snatch Saya off his shoulder like before. The lights shining on the tower were far too bright. Were the Rabbit's blind or something?

Who cared? Really, who cared about any of this?

"It's not me," he heard Saya whispering near his ear. "It's not me. I'm not the one who's wrong. You are. There's nothing wrong with me."

_You are me_ , he felt like reminding her, but didn't.

Right then, he didn't know who the fuck he was.

 

*~*~*

 


	4. Puma Concolor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once I might actually get a fic done in a timely fashion. IT MUST MEAN THE APOCALYPSE IS NIGH! Anyway, this is mostly a tension-building chapter until things come to a head, but I've been thinking of doing an interlude and adding an epilogue (both already or were already going to exist, it's just that before I was going to put them on the same page as the last chapter) so we might end up with seven chapters instead of five. The writing of chapter five is going well, and is over halfway done--exciting times.
> 
> For those unfamiliar with daemon!fic, please keep in mind for this and further chapters what a terrible thing touching another person's daemon without permission is. I already gave away in the tags that it would happen, so remember it. :) Thank you for all kudos/comments--extra points for those of you who spot the Hitchhiker's reference!

 

*~*~*

 

It rained again that night and Saruhiko ended up inside the side entrance they'd seen the school bus go through earlier alongside the lorry. The lorry was still there, and up close Saruhiko could see the white and blue logo of the Atlantis Institute emblazoned on its side; a cityscape with a dolphin flying—or floating, rather—over it, with a kanji for 'water' beneath the dolphin to let you know this was the Japanese branch, in case you forgot what country you were in.

Saruhiko didn't know much about the institute, but he did know the Japanese branch had been one of the first offshoots of the original founded in the UK; not surprising when you considered that island nations had a much higher rate of citizens stupid enough to have daemons who settled in aquatic form than those on the continent.

That the students they'd seen when they'd first arrived had been from the Atlantis Institute explained the huge backpacks they'd been wearing; likely tanks of water to contain their daemons for travel. He'd seen people on the news before talking about the major renovations they'd had to have for their homes to support a daemon that needed to remain in water, lifestyle changes, all the very sad problems that came when your soul decided it was a goldfish.

And it was always nice to remember that there were people with daemon problems worse than his. The seemingly magnetic quality they had to people who would sit around and talk for hours about what a special person they were and how privileged knowing such a special person made them would alone have probably driven Saruhiko to suicide by now.

... And now he was thinking about suicide again. How pathetic.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Saya whispered. "No more Saya to tell you what you refuse to tell yourself. You could burn us both up or fall on that shiny sword of ours and never have to see Misaki panting after Suoh Mikoto again. You could even leave a note for him, saying _'bet you're sorry now!_ '"

"Shut up," Saruhiko told her. He drew both knees up to his chest and leant his head against the wall. "I don't want to kill us."

_I just want to disappear._

There was a low clap of thunder outside, about as loud as an airplane and as Saruhiko saw it, just as mundane. The rain fell harder as a result. _"Take the umbrella, monkey—if you go out without one in this weather you'll get sick again, and I'll have to be the one to look after you! So just take it_!"—echoed around his head with the soft descent of the water.

It also made him think of Munakata. A mild annoyance and a force of nature, everywhere at once and gone in an instant, causing untold damage with the lightest pressure and bringing relief and life to those in desperate need; but almost always thought of negatively regardless. He'd noticed it the first day they'd met all those months ago: he was good at disappearing.

Maybe it came from not really being all there in the first place. Someone who apparently had once been whole, but now...

"Ah, Reisi-kun, I think we've found your missing Clansman."

Saruhiko started and sat up, hand going to his sword instinctively. The entrance that housed the lorry had a door at the back that lead inside the building, and that door had opened, far enough away that Saruhiko hadn't noticed the sound.

Standing in the doorway were four figures; two humans, both male; and two daemons. The taller of the men was dressed traditionally, and Saruhiko recognised him and the sea otter padding along beside him from archival photographs: Miwa Ichigen, the Colourless King. The second—more 'boy' than man—looked younger than Saruhiko, had a high black ponytail and some type of canine daemon with huge ears and a strange coat marbled black, white and gold. The Black Dog, no doubt.

Saruhiko stood up at once, feeling strangely self-conscious in front of an unknown King and his Clansman, and once he'd stood he realised who this King had been talking to just then.

Munakata poked his head around the door and smiled.

"There you are, Fushimi-kun," he said. "Awashima was worried."

Yeah, Saruhiko was sure she'd been wringing her hands. And wait, was the meeting over already?

"That didn't take long," he muttered.

The Colouless King chuckled. "I must say, it is embarrassing that someone so much younger seems so much more patient than me. Three hours in that uncomfortable chair—ugh." He made a pained sound.

_Three hours_? Saruhiko was sure he hadn't been sitting there longer than ten minutes, and yet when he checked the time on his phone he found himself staring blankly with disbelief at the time displayed on the screen.

"I can't say the chair was the _most_ uncomfortable factor of that meeting," said Munakata.

"Hmm, I think you may be implying something unkind, Reisi-kun," Miwa said, chidingly. "And I can only say to that, to 'let he who is without sin, cast the first stone'."

The Black Dog inhaled sharply and began pulling what looked like a tape recorder out of his pocket when Miwa put a gentle hand on his arms.

"I'm afraid that one's not one of my original pieces, Kuroh-kun. Why don't you run ahead and make sure the taxi is ready?"

'Kuroh' nodded. "Ichigen-sama," he said. Saruhiko was at once put in mind of a service robot.

As the Black Dog ran off with the Tri-coloured Dog running behind him, Miwa called, "Umbrella, Kuroh-kun!" after him, and the canid daemon changed direction fluidly to grab an umbrella from a rack in the corner while her human kept running like he'd been given a mission to save the world. The daemon passed close by to Saruhiko when she left, sparing him a single glance and no more.

Miwa sighed once the two of them were out of earshot, beginning to walk slowly towards the exit with Munakata.

"Poor Aswarilohqi," he mused fondly. "Hopefully she'll reign in Kuroh's impulsiveness in the years to come. I do worry about what will happen to them when I'm gone."

"Is that a hint, Miwa-san?" asked Munakata, smile growing. "Seeing as his daemon _is_ a... ?"

" _Lycaon pictus_ ," replied Miwa, "They go by several names, but my personal favourite is the 'painted wolf'. And in this case it is not a hint. I'm afraid not every canid in Japan can be brought under your command, Reisi-kun."

Munakata laughed. "I have an owl and a lizard who make up for that," he said. "Which reminds me—Kusunagi Izumo left this with Awashima-kun."

He took the knife Saruhiko had launched at Kusanagi out of his pocket and handed it back to him. Saruhiko snatched it back with a scowl.

"They've been digging into your history, you know," he told him. "That bartender was chatting up your old schoolteachers—found out about your daemon settling early. Not that I think that matters, but I suppose you'd want to know."

"And you threw a knife at him in my honour? I'm touched, Fushimi-kun."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you don't know I didn't do it for you. He made a remark about Saya." He glanced at Miwa and decided a small elaboration wouldn't clue him in to the crux of the matter. "About... about her teeth."

Only after he'd said it did he wonder why he should have wanted to let _Munakata_ know about it. Probably just in case Kusanagi ever did try to use it against him. Probably that.

"Well," said Munakata. "That wasn't very nice of him."

There was a moment Saruhiko debated whether or not to tell Munakata what had lead to that—not to be fair to Kusanagi, of course, but to see what Munakata's own reaction to those words would be. He decided for it.

"I did tell him you were going to kill Suoh Mikoto once his Weismann level went overboard."

Amazingly, Munakata actually looked more amused than anything by that.

"I can see why that might have pushed him to be so unkind," he said. He then lightly tapped Saruhiko's forehead with two fingers. "Bad Fushimi-kun. I should make you work overtime."

Saruhiko knew Munakata was fucking around. He knew it. There wasn't a trace of real anger, menace, or sadistic enjoyment underlying the Blue King's words. There wasn't even any hint that he was being serious about the overtime.

But for some reason Saruhiko suddenly felt very scared, and he didn't know why.

"Will you be all right from here, Miwa-san?" Munakata asked, seemingly putting the whole thing out of his mind.

"I'll be walking for at least a month yet," Miwa replied. "Strange to think of it that way though--a time limit, for such a thing. I shall enjoy the remainder of my constitutionals around the mountains, I think."

"As long as I get to be carried," said the otter daemon. As always, it was strange to hear a male voice coming from a man's daemon.

Miwa shook his head. "You are embarrassing me in front of another King, Darmok. You terrible, lazy daemon." The otter chuckled. "Which reminds me, Reisi-kun. Taishi-kun is working frequently up at the inn, and from what he tells me—"

Munakata ran his fingers through his hair as soon as Miwa mentioned the name 'Taishi'; a rare awkward moment for someone like him. "I know, I know," he said. "I'll see them soon." He paused at a dubious look from Miwa. "All of them."

"And they'll see _all_ of you?"

"Miwa-san, no one sees all of me these days."

"If you are worried about Takashima..."

The sound of that name snapped Saruhiko out of his previous troubled state immediately, and into another, equally troubled mind.

"I'm not. Though I'm not happy that she's gone to ground either." Munakata seemed to notice Saruhiko flinch, because he touched his shoulder gently and explained, "This is Takashima Reiko, Fushimi-kun; younger sister to Takashima Natsuhiro, with whom you were acquainted. We know she's researching Kings in the wake of her brother's death—it seems they were close and that she is also a Strain. Lioness daemon, according to the Rabbits."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "I suppose I'll tell the others to be on the lookout for her." He tried to sound nonchalant.

"I was going to have a staff briefing on the matter tomorrow morning. Miwa-san?"

The slight confusion in Munakata's use of the Colourless King's name prompted Saruhiko to look towards Miwa to see what might have been bothering his Captain. He saw the other King staring out into the rain, eyes going blank white as the rest of him remained stock still.

_He can see the future,_ Saruhiko reminded himself, looking to Saya for her reaction. She was staring at the otter, who was _glowing,_ with some kind of thin, mist-like substance.

"Captain?"

"Just leave him for a moment, Fushimi-kun. We may be about to witness a prediction."

"If you wanted a fortune cookie I could always order us up some Chinese."

Munakata reached up and patted Saruhiko on the head; which not only from anyone else but ordinarily from anyone at all would have made him duck out of their reach. However, in this instance Saruhiko had had this insane idea that Munakata had been about to pat Saya's head instead, and in the face of such an outrageous act had been paralysed with indecision.

And of course, Munakata hadn't done anything of the sort. So it was probably just Saruhiko being crazy again. He was surprised Saya offered no comment.

"Ichigen-sama!"

Fortunately the Black Dog returned a moment later, his painted wolf running behind him. Miwa jerked and stumbled backward suddenly as soon as his name was called, and Munakata reached out to steady him.

The Black Dog reached them absurdly fast, just as Miwa started blinking and righting himself again. His daemon stopped a few paces away and lay down, like she was the daemon of a vassal to an old Lord, and he quickly replaced Munakata by his King's side, offering himself as a crutch.

It was almost refreshing to see someone who made Misaki look like he thought _his_ King was 'meh, okay'. This guy was practically nuts.

The otter shook its fur like a wet dog. "Never get used to that," he grumbled. "Usually only happens when we're asleep."

"It is an interesting experience," agreed Miwa, adjusting the hat that had slipped down his forehead slightly when he'd stumbled.

Abruptly, as his hand was lowered again it changed direction and clasped Saruhiko's shoulder; too quickly for him to know what to do about it.

"A choice to remain in a state of flux," said the Colourless King, looking deep into his eyes, "is as much a choice as taking one of two paths. Be careful."

If Saruhiko hadn't been frozen in place with the touch of one of the most powerful men in the world, he might have made a sarcastic comment about how 'deep' Miwa's words had been. Also about how the effect was somewhat ruined by the Black Dog immediately taking out that tape recorder and holding it up to his King's voice to capture the words of wisdom. He really was mental; no wonder Miwa was worried about him.

Saruhiko expected more, at least for the two Kings to swap a few more thousand words of the cryptic small talk that seemed to get Kings off so much, but once Miwa slowly removed his hand from Saruhiko's shoulder, he said only one more thing.

"Luilla misses you, Reisi-kun."

And Munakata said only one thing back.

"Take care, Miwa-san."

Then the Black Dog opened the umbrella and placed it over Miwa's head, remaining glued to his side as the two of them slowly walked out into the rain, the painted wolf following at a respectful distance.

Saya finally lifted her head up from the meek position she'd adopted and let her tongue flicker about. There was a long moment of silence wherein she and the two humans watched the other King and his Clansman move across the plaza. Saruhiko didn't really know what to make of Miwa Ichigen; he seemed a different sort of King to the other three Saruhiko was familiar with—four, he supposed, if you counted 'research into' as 'familiarity' with the Green King. More... he supposed he'd call it 'spiritual', thought the word would have left a bad taste in his mouth.

He hated guys like that.

"Shall we return home, Fushimi-kun?" Munakata asked him.

Unbidden, the memory of that fateful day months earlier came back. _Where are you going? This isn't the way home._

So he only clicked his tongue in answer.

"Your daemon's name is 'Luilla' then?" he asked.

Munakata only grinned like a Cheshire Cat in answer. Not that Saruhiko would have expected anything else.

Not that he cared or anything.

 

*~*~*

 

Even though he knew he was letting Kusanagi win, it was weeks before Saruhiko went near HOMRA territory again.

The search for Takashima Reiko went nowhere, despite Saruhiko putting at least a 50% effort into it—sure, that was the pretty much the literal definition of 'half-assing' it, but he usually relied on even less than that to capture Strains. The fact that they had only one picture of her; eight years out of date with her daemon half out of shot, no current address, no former address, no records of employment and no known associates other than her dead brother, hadn't helped. She didn't even have a criminal record—so it wasn't like there was a major push to get her into custody.

Soon the Clan had become more concerned with the horse of various ridiculous names running around town showing its useless wings off, which precipitated another encounter with HOMRA that Saruhiko thankfully had nothing to do with, only watching Misaki and Kiki from above as they hopped about Suoh Mikoto's sides, while Kol prowled beside them in a way some might have thought powerful, but Saruhiko preferred to call 'lazy'.

Well. At least Misaki didn't record everything Suoh said. Likely even he realised doing such a thing would only get him hour after hour of 'Hn', 'Not my problem', and 'What do you want me to do, Izumo?'

Munakata sometimes asked Saruhiko what he should do. From what Saruhiko could tell, he only did it because he thought it was funny; what with the way every answer Saruhiko gave him, no matter how sarcastic or cruel, was inevitably met with a slightly manic grin. What was that sci-fi book where the one character was described as having a smile that made people think he was about to rip their throats out due to his predatory alien ancestors? Because that's what Munakata was like.

Though that little voice in his head that told him 'that's not why he wants you by his side' also said 'that's not why he asks you for your input', during these occasions. However, Saya would have thought him an idiot to listen to that voice.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end, and by the time winter rolled around Saya had begun to revert back to the manic state she'd been in when Saruhiko had felt over-exposed to HOMRA, for no discernable reason, and Saruhiko found himself creeping closer and closer back to Red territory any time he was out of SCEPTRE 4 headquarters.

The Blue Clan kept detailed reports on the inner workings of the Reds; as accurate as they could make them. Routine surveillance was conducted on both them and their devices, though it rarely turned up anything interesting, and in one embarrassing incident had actually lead to the entire SCEPTRE 4 network being infected with a virus Kusunagi sent back at them through their own invasive programs. Fucking Kusunagi.

Saruhiko perused this information every night, and if there was no new information of that sort on any given night, then he'd go back over the information they already had—skim through it for the mentions of Misaki and other highlights, at the very least.

But it wasn't enough.

Firstly, their surveillance team paid nowhere near enough attention to Misaki. He was arguably third amongst his Clan, with Totsuka possibly sharing that rank depending on how you looked at it; HOMRA wasn't really concerned with ranking its members in that way. Nevertheless, he was certainly their third best fighter, and yet, despite multiple complaints from Saruhiko, the surveillance team paid more attention to _Eric_ than they did to Misaki—something about him being 'problematic', whatever the fuck that meant. And it didn't help that Munakata kept quietly countering Saruhiko's orders to do otherwise.

Asshole.

Secondly, every time he printed out a surveillance photo he inevitably ended up ripping it to pieces in a rage and having to print a replacement out, causing several complaints to be filed by Resource Management about his uneconomic use of printer ink. That may not have sounded like a big deal; if you didn't know the ruthless bitch in charge of Resource Management, that is. She and her pit bull made Awashima and Graziano look like a pair of bunny rabbits by comparison.

But he kept printing out those photos, because he _needed_ to see Misaki, and more than that needed to see him interacting with _them_ so that he could analyse the problem and somehow, someway, figure out how to fix it—with more finality than he'd managed so far.

"But the problem isn't with Misaki," Saya would tell him, over and over and over again. "It's with _you_."

"Shut up," he'd spit back at her, and try to throw her away like he'd done so many months ago.

It only ever made her laugh at him.

After the horse thing there was a lull in Strain activity that lasted up to the new year, meaning there was very little for Saruhiko to do at SCEPTRE 4 that would really take his mind off that burning need.

So he started to hang around the bar again on his off hours.

That mostly meant watching the idiots that made up the rank and file squeaking and squalling down the surrounding streets; complaining about their worthless lives. Kamamoto had food poisoning after eating from a vendor anyone could have seen was untrustworthy. Chitose had a new girl who had been frightened off by his tales of HOMRA, despite having a cat bigger than Dewa's as her daemon. Bandou had been evicted by his new landlord after the old one had been convicted of tax fraud, and now had to move in with baseball-cap guy.

Anna had been standing right beside him in the alleyway for who knew how long, a black fur cape over her usual red dress to guard her against the winter weather, while he'd stared at the entrance to the bar with narrowed eyes.

Once he noticed her, he cringed and clicked his tongue.

"Did you want something?" he asked.

Scheherazade was currently a small white bat with a yellow leaf-shaped protuberance in the middle of her face. She stayed perfectly still while Anna shook her head.

"Good," Saruhiko muttered. "Then get lost. I'm busy spying on your King."

In truth he hadn't seen Suoh Mikoto since the thing with the horse. To his delight, they kept missing each other.

"He's asleep," said Anna.

"Kusanagi isn't though, is he?" Saruhiko observed. "And he's the brain of the operation, so really he's more important than that idiot."

"He's sorry."

Saruhiko blinked.

"What?"

"Izumo. For what Chiaka said at the Gold Clan's tower. He's sorry. And she's sorry too."

Anger began to bubble up towards Saruhiko's fingertips. "He tell you that himself, did he?"

"He said, 'we shouldn't have said that', when you left."

As always, her words were plain and to the point; spoken in monotone, and almost lifelessly, despite the obvious and unwanted reconciliatory intent behind them. She still made him feel uncomfortable, but his promise to kill Kusanagi if he'd given Misaki the wrong idea about his own intent also stood, and demanded that he know for sure whether or not that was the case.

"Oh? What else did he say?"

"He said, 'it doesn't feel good to mock someone having a hard time. Especially something like a chimera'."

Saya puffed her frill up and stepped forward eagerly with her fangs bared. "And what did he tell you about chimeras?" she asked the girl. Saruhiko couldn't help but frown at her for being forward.

Anna didn't seem to mind though. "He said... it was a daemon with a form that couldn't exist. It meant that person wasn't at rest with themselves."

Bastard. Patronising _bastard._ How dare he say things like that about them? How dare he pretend like he knew anything about it? Saruhiko felt more and more enraged by what he heard, but Saya began to laugh.

"Maybe Kusunagi is as stupid as Suoh after all!" she cried. "Let me tell you something, Kushina Anna, a chimera is the daemon of a crazy person, who could snap and kill you at any moment and laugh about it later. What do you think about that?"

The little girl blinked her huge doll-like eyes and made a small, soft noise of acknowledgement that was entirely devoid of fear, which Saya didn't like one bit. She answered:

"Yata said, 'I don't care about stuff like that'. He said, 'I hope Saruhiko stays unrested until he's sorry for what he said about Mikoto-san'."

Misaki had said that?

That was _brilliant_. That Misaki was thinking of him, and not with a shred of pity. That Misaki was hoping things for him. That Misaki had set a condition for dismissal that Saruhiko had only to ignore to never truly be dismissed.

And he would never be sorry for anything he'd said about Suoh Mikoto.

Saya hissed and turned back onto his shoulder, not as happy as he was by that announcement, as it was something she couldn't taunt him with. Saruhiko looked back at the bar.

"Aren't they going to wonder where you are?" he asked.

"Mm-mm." Anna shook her head again.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again. "Well, I'm leaving. It looks like the Red Clan is being as useless and uninteresting as ever. Tell Misaki his King is worthless and SCEPTRE 4 is going to drape the lion's skin over the Blue King's throne for me, won't you?"

Still seemingly unaffected, Anna nodded.

"And also tell him Munakata's fallen angel vassal can easily skin a daemon without letting him turn to Dust, and has done so many times for him since he traded away his own daemon for the angel's services."

Anna nodded again. If the look on her face hadn't been so impassive, he might have thought he was being humoured.

There were a few moments where he awkwardly tried to decide what words to leave her with, before he just couldn't be bothered anymore and flash-stepped out of the alley to get away from her, then—despite SCEPTRE 4 induction training being specific about the flash-step only being suitable for short, quick bursts—he used the same movement to get all the way back to HQ.

What did it matter, anyway? He felt fine afterwards, disregarding the fatigue you would have expected from him racing back like that. Disregarding the familiar creeping feeling that this time Misaki would finally have grown bored with the ghost stories and the petty insults, and let the hatred Saruhiko had been trying so hard to cultivate slip into indifference.

Surely Misaki would never? Because if he ever did, Saruhiko would just have to up his game somehow. No, he felt absolutely fine.

Well, that weekend saw him sick in bed with flu, and the ensuing horror of having to listen to Awashima lecture him about dressing appropriately for the weather was matched only by the even greater horror of having Munakata visit him with some kind of herbal tea remedy. Worse, the King stayed to chat even after Saruhiko told him to piss off.

"We've had a report from around the Ashinaka High School area of what might be a cat-Strain, or more likely a Strain that thinks it's a cat, as it seems to have a daemon," Munakata was telling him from the chair at his desk. Saruhiko thanked whatever for small mercies that he had refrained from pulling it up to the bed.

"A _cat_ daemon?" he asked sarcastically; halfway under his covers.

"Funnily enough, no," Munakata told him. "The witness indicated it was of the _Sciuridae_ family, though she couldn't identify the species of squirrel from the catalogue. Who knows; it may be undiscovered."

Saruhiko snorted. "More likely the witness is an idiot who saw a weasel or something and doesn't know the difference."

"Indeed, that is also a possibility. Ah, Akiyama-kun, have you come to check on our poor colleague?"

Saruhiko definitely couldn't be bothered to look up and see if Akiyama was actually at his door, but seeing no reason to believe he wasn't, he groaned.

"Just to see if he needs anything," Akiyama answered, sure enough.

"Go away," Saruhiko snapped at him.

In his mind's eye, he could see the other man smiling when he said, "Well, he seems like his old self. I'll let the others know."

Fuck the others, he wanted to reply. He was pretty sure Akiyama was intelligent enough to take such a remark in the way it was intended.

"Feel better, Saya-chan!" called the retriever daemon.

Saya didn't answer, and nervously burrowed further against her hot water bottle.

"I too shall take my leave, Fushimi-kun," Munakata said apologetically, which in Saruhiko's opinion would only have been necessary if the apology was for having stayed in the first place. "I have to make certain delivery arrangements for next Wednesday. Be sure to get lots of rest." He was on his phone even as he was walking out the door, saying, "Ah, Hotaru-san—" as he closed it behind him.

"Good riddance," Saruhiko muttered.

The worst thing was, he actually felt better after drinking the tea.

It snowed outside his window for the rest of the night, the snowflakes casting their shadows on the part of his wall lit up by the lanterns on the gate outside. Watching their pattern took his mind off the ache in his head and put him relatively at ease, even as his thoughts turned to HOMRA, and he was annoyed that he hadn't heard from Misaki.

A while ago he'd run into Dewa in the course of an investigation into a Strain who had also been seen harassing some of the retailers the Red Clan worked with—this was months before the incident at the tower. In the interest of expediency Saruhiko had knocked both Dewa and the Strain into unconsciousness before calling on Kamo and Doumyoji to clean up the mess, and pinned a friendly message for Misaki on Dewa's hat before he'd left.

The result had been Misaki storming off to SCEPTRE 4 headquarters to throw down a proverbial gauntlet, which unfortunately Saruhiko hadn't actually been there to meet. He blamed Munakata for that too. Awashima had called Kusanagi to collect Misaki like he would an unruly child, and Saruhiko had missed out that time, but he saw no reason his recent encounter with Anna shouldn't have provoked the same response.

Maybe Misaki had been by and the others had just shooed him away in light of Saruhiko's illness. Maybe Akiyama had come to tell him about it, in which case Saruhiko almost regretted telling him to piss off. Hell, maybe Awashima had been drinking her vodka and bean paste at Kusanagi's bar and complaining about it, and overhearing, Misaki had decided the flu was punishment enough.

Maybe Misaki was laughing at him right now. He resolved to go back to HOMRA at the earliest opportunity to give Misaki his own opportunity to remember how much he hated him. That would sort things out. He ended up drifting off with those thoughts in his head.

Saruhiko dreamed that night that he was on a beach, and a monstrous snake was holding him in place while Kiallanta sat on his chest and ate his heart. Misaki was nearby, but his attention was fixed on fighting off an eagle that was as large as he was, who had been attracted by all the blood. He fought fiercely, burning the sand all around them, but no matter long the fight went on for he just wouldn't realise that _he_ was the problem that had brought the eagle in the first place. Saruhiko tried to call out to him to tell him, but the snake latched its own mouth onto his and swallowed his words.

Then, just when Kiallanta had been about to rip the last part out of him, a wave so huge it blocked out the sun came crashing down and carried them all away. He woke up feeling like someone had been holding him in the night, though the door was locked from the inside and the idea was absurd.

Saya had nothing to say about that.

He was back to work the next day. Slinking around the High School that Munakata had mentioned turned up nothing about any cat Strain, even when Benzai came out with his bloodhound to scour the area, Kamo's borzoi ran beside her as their resident sight-hound to spot any anomalies and Graziano did an aerial sweep of the entire grounds. All in all, a gigantic waste of time.

"If she is here, she'll turn up eventually," Awashima sighed. "Right now she doesn't seem to be violent or anything, so the matter isn't an urgent one."

"Does that mean we can go back?" Saruhiko asked in a bored tone.

Awashima rolled her eyes. "It _means_ that we will be going back, so you can oversee the writing of the reports."

Oversee?

"You want me to actually make suggestions on how to proceed, then?" he asked her; half irritated, half amused at the thought of some of the suggestions he could make.

_Suggest if His Majesty is so interested he can get the fuck out here and look for the damn thing himself. Alternatively, suggest entire area be bombed out of existence in co-ordinated airstrike, just to make sure, along with these 37 other targets..._

"I certainly expect you to," Awashima told him. "You're supposedly hiding a genius-level intellect in there somewhere. It's about time you put it to some use."

Saruhiko frowned. "Is that the Captain's order?" he asked.

He'd been under the impression that Munakata had given him the 'exalted' position that he had when he'd accepted him into SCEPTRE 4 purely on the basis of his combat skills... and possibly just to see how Suoh would react to it. It had been strange, how well Saruhiko's body had taken to channelling Blue aura—the expression of ordered energy—when his mind was so blatantly disordered.

But he'd been there six months now. Was it possible Munakata was thinking about giving him responsibilities that required—well, responsibility? Him, an insane chimera?

"It was the Captain's suggestion," Awashima told him. Graziano came to land on her shoulder gracefully, pausing her for a moment while Kamo and Benzai ran from around the corner, daemons in tow—Benzai shaking his head pointedly. Awashima sighed.

"Which do you think is more likely," Saruhiko asked her with a grin. "That she swam to shore or that a flying squirrel daemon carried her there?"

As if she was picking up bad habits from him, Awashima clicked her tongue. "Flying squirrels can't actually fly," she said, as if he didn't already know that. "But this Strain could have done either. The two actions often use similar motions. Have the report done by Monday evening at the latest."

It was Saturday. That would give him and Saya the one Sunday to visit HOMRA again.

 

*~*~*

 

Sunday was surprisingly sunny for it being the beginning of January. Saruhiko arrived within sight of the bar just in time to duck back into the same alley he'd spoken with Anna in at the beginning of the week when he saw the door to the bar thrown open and Kiallanta come scampering out with Misaki hot on her trail.

"All right!" he heard him yell, cheek pressed up to the brick of one of the abandoned buildings that were one of the better features of the area. Saya climbed onto his head for a better view, smelling the air with her tongue. "HOMRA is going to the beach!"

_Good of you to remind everyone where they were going, Misaki,_ thought Saruhiko. _They might have forgotten on their way to the front door._

He knew exactly which part of the beach they'd be going to as well, and the idea of getting there before them and waiting to see the looks on their faces when they arrived to find him sitting there in consummate innocence brought a smirk to his face.

Then he saw Suoh Mikoto exit the bar and those plans were squashed. He cringed and tightened his fingers on the rough bricks.

"Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat," Saya taunted him softly. He reached up and gave her tail a sharp little tug.

Anna was at Suoh's side; Scheherazade a white tiger-cub that accompanied Kol a few steps before she shifted into a white bat that flew onto the lion's head—not the same bat as the one who'd been on her shoulder the other day, a larger one, but maybe Scheherazade was thinking of settling as one regardless? Though Saruhiko would have thought that was a year or so off yet; unless Anna was really that mature already. Which wasn't impossible.

Munakata's had settled younger, according to Kusanagi. Thinking of that suddenly made him wonder if he should be writing that report instead, since something might have come up between today and Monday that prevented him from turning it in last-minute.

On the other hand, why the fuck would he worry about that?

Shaking his head to try and clear it, he glanced at the bar again to see who was leaving and who was staying. Kusanagi came, and Kamamoto, then Chitose, Bandou and baseball cap-guy, but no Dewa, Fujishima, Eric, and most surprisingly no Totsuka. More surprisingly than that, the idle thought struck him that it might have been an idea to learn baseball cap-guy's name one of these days.

He sighed and watched them turn the corner to the garage around back, out of sight, no longer having any desire to follow them. Munakata must have been a bad influence.

Oh, _there_ was Totsuka—running behind the others as he tripped over his own feet and almost fell flat on his face. Perikhadi flew out of his jacket pocket with the suddenness of the motion in a round little ball of fur and into Totsuka's grasping hands, which dropped her once then quickly caught her again and stuffed her back in his jacket, still running.

"Useless," muttered Saya.

Totsuka? Yes, he was pretty useless. Well, he could light a room up, so Saruhiko supposed he was your guy if the power had gone out and you couldn't find a flashlight. How he had gotten mixed up with a guy whose daemon could have swallowed his curly-coated little pound of fluff without any trouble but the possibility he'd hack up a hairball later...

"A little hypocritical," Saya told him, "Given that for all we know Munakata has a daemon that would make a tasty snack out of little old me."

"Shut up," Saruhiko told her.

"If he's truly Separated his daemon has to be a bird, supposedly," she went on. "And what's the biggest predator of frill-necked lizards in the wild? Birds."

"That guy's daemon isn't a bird."

He was certain of that. He didn't know why, but he was certain of that.

"And when we're not being carried off by hungry birds, the dingoes are getting to us," Saya continued. "Canines. Good thing there aren't many of _those_ around," she laughed. "You really did walk us in to the lion's den."

"No, I walked us out of the _lion's_ den," Saruhiko snapped. "And I don't remember hearing you complaining about it at the time. In fact, if I had to comment on it, I'd say you're usually staring like a deer in headlights whenever that guy is around. What's the matter? Are you scared?"

Saya didn't answer him there. It felt good to get one over on her, though he knew she wasn't scared of Munakata—or rather, that fear was not the _primary_ emotion she experienced.

Saruhiko took the opportunity of her silence to look out over the street again. A man with a shrike daemon was talking animatedly to a guy with a raccoon on the opposite corner to the bar—probably Red Clansmen who weren't in the 'inner circle', so to speak. A young woman in yellow with a cougar was wandering around frowning at a map. A middle-aged man with no immediately visible daemon strode by the alley with a sour look on his face and his hands in his pockets. Even he didn't seem to notice Saruhiko, and you would have thought someone with a SCEPTRE 4 uniform would have elicited at least a double-take, but no.

Then again, maybe the man was too busy thinking about how much he hated kids playing on his lawn or something. He looked like the type.

Sighing, Saruhiko looked further out towards the direction he knew the beach was in. There was a drunk in a suit stumbling about (at midday? Well, it was always nice to remember that there were people far more pathetic than him in the world), and across the road another member of HOMRA he vaguely recognised was standing in such a way that Saruhiko knew he'd been positioned to receive information from one of Kusanagi's shady networks.

Sure enough, a car pulled up at the side of the street the guy was standing on, and a thin, leggy, scantily-clad woman with a lemur daemon pulled herself out of the back to talk to the man. They had a short conversation, in which the man seemed very much annoyed by whatever the woman was telling him, and she kept motioning for him to get in the car.

Even from halfway up the road, Saruhiko could tell something dodgy was in play. Still, it shouldn't have surprised him that it took less than a minute for the guy to allow himself to be coaxed into the car. This was HOMRA after all.

_Idiot,_ thought Saruhiko. _You should have called Kusanagi for instructions._

He'd have liked to think that was the standing order Kusanagi left with his informants. But then, Kusanagi could be surprisingly careless. Saruhiko had heard Chiaka scold him for it once, and heard him tell his daemon that sometimes you had to let people work things out for themselves. Which was true, assuming the 'people' actually had the capability of doing so. Saruhiko would have said that most of the Red Clan, did not.

"Are you going to report it?" Saya asked him, not in the least serious.

On the corner, the two men who had been conversing suddenly started walking away.

"Don't be stupid," he told her, clicking his tongue. "It's our day off." He took a deep breath, and, feeling the beginnings of a headache, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is pointless. Let's just go home."

The scar was itching too. "Want me to get that for you?" Saya asked him.

He rolled his eyes. "Do whatever you want."

She crawled forward to his chest and slipped her little claws beneath his shirt, scratching and rubbing at the burn mark. Saruhiko slunk out of the alleyway and briefly considered flash-stepping home before discarding the idea. While it might have been an idea to train himself up for greater flash-stepping prowess, he didn't think he could handle having Munakata sitting at his desk and bringing him tea while he mused about pointless nothings twice in one week. And speaking of that, what even was the point of being able to flash-step further than he already could?

What was the point of any of this? Hanging around in SCEPTRE 4 or wherever else to delay the inevitable didn't make a difference; it was always going to end the same way.

The way he'd been thinking of more, since the Kings' meeting at the Mihashira tower.

The way he'd been thinking of less, since—

"Hey, he looks pretty official, Rei-chan," he heard a male voice declare. "Ask him."

A very brief glance out of the corner of his eye let him know it had been the daemon of the woman in yellow he'd seen earlier who'd spoken. He realised the cougar must have been talking about him, for whatever reason, and hoped his pointed ignoring of him and his human would send the desired message.

"Um, mister! Mister in the blue coat!"

Apparently not.

Saruhiko kept walking away until the woman moved towards him—a funny, clumsy gait, with her elbows tucked in at her sides but her hands spread wide, her feet kicked up high behind her with every step in a toddler-ish manner. She trotted around in front of him and stood directly in his path, shoving the map she was carrying in his face.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I really need your help!"

He tried to side-step her, but she was swift despite her ungainliness, and swerved in front of him, making him halt suddenly. Saya crawled back onto his shoulder and cringed harshly at the sight of the woman; bright, bright buttercup yellow plastic jacket and mini-skirt, shiny black knee-high boots and practically luminous bobbed green hair. As an added irritation she was wearing glasses almost exactly like Saruhiko's, and the whole ensemble served to make that headache-in-the-making come to pass much quicker than it should have.

The cougar seemed somewhat out of place next to such an eyesore.

"Sorry!" the woman cried, "I'm really sorry, I just need you to tell me if you know where a place called 'HOMRA' is—I'm looking for Chitose You!"

Really? She wanted to know where the building, whose 'HOMRA' sign was literally visible from where they were standing, was situated?

_Aim high, Chitose_ , he thought. Out loud he said—

"Piss off," and managed to take advantage of the girl's shock to push her aside enough to get past.

Honestly. That guy and his bimbo sluts. Though at least his issues with females weren't as laughable as Misaki's, the little virgin loser—

"Huh. That always works in the movies, Gievfrick."

He should have kept on walking. But those words were just so... so much _nonsense_ that Saruhiko couldn't help but turn around and stare at the woman who'd spoken them so confusedly.

"Asking for directions always works in the movies? Works for what, getting directions? Is 'idiot tourist wandering around' a genre that's recently become popular with airheaded women?"

The woman giggled self-consciously. "No," she admitted. "I just mean it always works as a... what do you call it? Oh yes—a ruse."

And then she reached out and grabbed Saya by the neck.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

... Her nails had been painted green. Why he'd noticed that as those nails came at them while that brain power could have been put to use reconciling the image of the bumbling idiot with the use of the word 'ruse' in no less time than he'd normally be able to pull a knife out, he didn't know. Subconscious self-sabotage, perhaps?

It wasn't... wasn't as soul-wrecking as he'd heard. Actually, he'd later learn there was a reason for that, but at the moment all he could think was...

Was...

What was he thinking? He didn't know. His vision blurred, and he felt like he was blacking out, despite the fact that he was still standing upright; like he should have been falling but gravity was refusing to cooperate, so he was trapped in vertical with Saya on his shoulder.

And a stranger's hand on Saya.

"You're Fushimi Saruhiko," said the woman. She still sounded like the uncertain airhead he'd pegged her as, even with her cold, cold fingers burning against Saya's skin—against his skin, on all of him, his whole body—she was everywhere. "Kenji-kun told me your name, but I recognised you because you have the Red Clan's mark but the Blue Clan's uniform."

Kenji-kun?

He should have known what that name meant. It meant something—he knew he'd heard it before in conjunction with something else that was... important—but he just couldn't think...

"You don't know how glad I am you showed up today," she continued. Still so nervous, even when she was the one who—"I was going to do more research on the Reds and try to get them to give me a name, but since you're here, and since I learned about _her_... well, it's kind of perfect, don't you think?"

No. No, he didn't.

"Oh, I, uh... guess you _can't_ right now. Sorry, this must seem kind of weird. Um..."

"Pacify him, Reiko," said the cougar exasperatedly.

Reiko. That also meant something. That meant the eagle who'd tried to tear him apart, the man with the dark, dark eyes who'd constrained him so painfully, the knife-like talons against them that despite their bite felt nothing compared to what was holding him now.

Reiko.

Takashima Reiko.

"Oh, oh right!" laughed Takashima, and her other hand hesitantly took Saruhiko's, like she'd asked him to dance. "Uh, no one's looking, right?"

The cougar snorted and licked his paw. Lioness daemon, the Rabbits had told them. _Lioness_. Surely they couldn't have been so stupid as to...

Fuck. Why was he even surprised that they had been that stupid?

Just as abruptly as she'd touched her, Takashima removed her cold hand from Saya's frill and it seemed to make the world around Saruhiko a touch brighter. The blurriness had eased up when he was looking straight ahead, but when he tried to move his eyes in another direction it was like the lines of what he had been looking at before stayed on his retinas and moved with them, until he blinked and dispelled them. Also, he still couldn't remember how to move the rest of his body.

And Takashima was still holding his hand. She twirled around him and with only the slightest pull he found his body being manoeuvred like that of a mannequin, spun to face the opposite direction while the woman latched onto his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, like she was some fawning date he was taking to the movies.

Saya retreated from her green hair, but much slower than you would have expected, almost as if she didn't know what was going on. Which Saruhiko had to admit, was getting harder and harder for him as well. The lizard situated herself in an uncomfortable position hanging around his neck, but couldn't seem to figure out how to get to his other shoulder instead and just lay there, limply.

"Okay," said Takashima brightly. "Now, what should we do?"

"Take him back to base I suppose," said the cougar.

A fucking cougar. Those morons mistook a fucking cougar for a lioness. Fuck.

"You're right, Gievf," said Takashima. "Those horrible Kings won't find us there. And we know there's no surveillance once we've passed the next crossing. This was really lucky!"

_Lucky,_ he remembered Munakata describing that situation, half a year back now. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

He seemed to be moving forward. His legs were walking. The buildings that had been around them were being left behind. And yet, he didn't feel like he was...

... like he was...

There.

He could only vaguely acknowledge that the images in front of his eyes were changing with each passing second, still suggesting motion but only in the way watching a film of someone driving would have, he wasn't really _there_. Nor could he recognise familiar landmarks that might have told him where he was going.

The sensation continued to crawl through his mind, along with the faint acknowledgement that talking sounds were coming from Takashima, and occasionally from her daemon, in short, rapid bursts of words that were incomprehensible to him. She sounded like she was speaking underwater.

And then there was just...

...

... a gap.

When he finally came to he was naked—no, nearly naked, she'd let him keep his underwear, thank fuck—and chained tightly to a thick pole in a large, mostly empty room with no windows. The floor and ceiling were cement, the walls looked to have been made with so many rocks all mortared together, there was a far corner with what looked like a heap of random junk on his left, and at his right a radiator plugged into the wall.

Not that that was doing much about the cold. It was freezing.

Looking up was difficult; there was one painfully bright light above his head that somehow failed to illuminate much more than the area immediately surrounding him to any great effect, but the innate sense he had of the bond he shared with Saya pulled his eyes in that direction nonetheless—and sure enough, slightly on his left, she was hanging from a chain attached to a wide metal cuff that encircled her body closely, about a foot above his head.

Only when he tried to reach out to her did he begin to grasp the severity of his situation.

The chains were better than secure, painful in some places where they were really digging in against his flesh; his shoulders, ribs, hips, all felt like they were bruising up, and the only part of his body he could really move was his head.

He'd been abducted. Again. By Takashima. Again. And it was HOMRA's fault. Again.

Sure, this time it wasn't the same Takashima, and one might have argued that HOMRA didn't ask for him to spy on them constantly, but then if they hadn't been such an irritation then he wouldn't have needed to.

At this stage his memory concerning the details was still fuzzy. He needed to get himself and Saya out of there before—

BZZT!

Blinding pain shot down both his arms the second he tried to use his Blue aura. He stilled in shock, waited for the pain to pass and tried again.

BZZT!

Same result. He grit his teeth. Much as he hated still having the mark of HOMRA's claim to him running through his veins, he was certainly not so stubborn that he wouldn't use his Red aura under far less desperate circumstances than these. To do otherwise would have been far too like Misaki.

BZZT!

This time he actually made a noise, if stifled. The pain was in his chest, and he took deep, gasping breaths to assure himself no damage had been done to his circulatory system. Nothing immediately identifiable at least. After a few seconds the feeling began to get better, and he turned his head towards Saya.

"Saya?"

The chain she was hanging from rustled slightly. She was obviously awake, and alert.

"Saya?"

"... me," he heard her mutter, the soft escape of an explosive anger.

"What?"

"... she touched me."

Oh, yes. So she had. He'd forgotten about that, but then it was difficult to tell which of his many problems was the result of which of the many crises in his life as it was—

"She touched me. _She touched me_. SHE TOUCHED ME, SARUHIKO! _SHE TOUCHED ME_!"

Saya began convulsing frantically on the chain, her screams dissolving into incoherency as she flooded Saruhiko's head with yet more disorientation, making him cry out again and to break away from the chains physically, but in vain.

"Shut up!" he yelled at her, so violently that it hurt his throat.

Before she could respond there was a startling vibration across the ceiling and loud slam of a door beyond the one that lead to this room. Both man and daemon fell silent, their attention on that door. In whatever space was beyond here, someone descended what sounded like metal steps, hard enough that it seemed like whatever staircase they were on was shaking. Then there was a pause.

Then a key turned in the lock on the door in front of them.

Saruhiko took a deep breath.

When the door swung open, Takashima poked her head around it hesitantly, checking for danger. She smiled at Saruhiko and waved in greeting once she was sure there was none, and the cougar padded softly into the room, just as she threw the door open. It slammed against the wall and made her flinch and cry out in shock, then she giggled and trotted into the room.

"Sorry about that," she said.

Really, Saruhiko didn't know what to say. The woman was obviously somewhere between insane and stupid, and yet here he was, firmly in her clutches. And she'd touched his daemon. For all he'd been hanging around thugs and Kings and assholes his whole life, he'd never seen anyone actually do that. Not even this woman's brother.

"How are you feeling? Nausea? Headaches?" she cringed as though genuinely concerned. "My powers kind of... do that. Oh, I'm a Strain, in case you didn't know that—I guess you know what a Strain is, obviously, and I can effect chemical production in the brain that creates all kinds of... uh, _effects._ Oni-chan used to call the one I used on you my date-rape powers."

Saruhiko really hoped the look she gained on her face at that point was due to her own realisation of what she'd just said and not from some horror his own expression was showing subconsciously.

Takashima quickly began waving her hands back and forth. "Not that that means anything, I mean—I'm not, like, some weird pervert or anything!"

_Well, thank goodness for that_ , he thought, and hoped his inner sarcasm _did_ show.

"That was just my Oni-chan being Oni-chan. He was so funny..."

Yeah, he'd been a barrel of laughs.

"Reiko," said the cougar, trying to keep her on track by the sound of it.

"Anyway, I only took your clothes off to make sure you didn't have any of those knives on you—I've heard about you, you see. And Oni-chan took some of those anti-Strain cuffs the Golds put on him back at the hospital with him when he left, so I put some of those on you since we always figured they'd block Clan powers as well since they both come from the Slate, so we could have a talk, and you could tell me... which one of that wretched Blue King's butchering dogs killed my Ni-chan."

She exhaled and grinned like she'd gotten her way through a difficult performance, and expected applause or comment.

Saruhiko remained silent. The silence lasted well past the point of awkward.

Eventually, the cougar started stalking towards him. "I don't think he plans on volunteering the information, Reiko," he announced, faux-surprised.

"Mm..." said Takashima. "Yes, well, we did talk about that, didn't we?"

Quick as a cat she pulled one of Saruhiko's own knives out from beneath the belt she had on her skirt and approached him, the harsh light from above casting a shadow over her already dark, dark eyes. It was then Saruhiko finally came to accept that whatever her appearance and her mannerisms suggested, her actions belied them, and she was a predator perhaps even more dangerous than her brother had been.

His heart began to beat harder, hard enough that he felt every beat against the tip of the knife she placed gently against his breastbone. She laughed again.

"It's okay," she told the cougar. "I know just where I want to start."

 

*~*~*

 


	5. Interlude: Cercopithecus Wolfi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick interlude to get you in the mood for the approaching climax, hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> (or not, once you read the last line...)

*~*~*

 

INTERLUDE

 

It was Monday evening, going on night; and at this the height of winter, it had gone dark hours ago. The usual crowd was beginning to fill in at bar HOMRA, but of course things didn't really get lively until Yata showed up.

"Fucking runners!" he shouted angrily, throwing the over-shirt he wore for work off into a corner. "Thinking they can have someone else cook for them and bring them their meal and they can just run off—I should have fucking broken their legs!"

Kiki emphasised his words with a furious snarl, and pushed Chitose's scrub hare aside as she advanced into the bar. Chitose looked ready to protest, but then apparently thought better of it and just sighed.

"Someone ran off without paying, did they?" asked Totsuka. "That's not good."

Perikhadi poked her head out of his pocket. "Did you get a good look at them, Yata-chan?" she asked.

"Oh, I'd recognise them if I saw them again," said Yata, "but it's not like I took down their address and phone numbers. Fucking assholes."

He punched the bar without thinking, causing Izumo to almost drop the cocktail mixer he was holding with horror.

"Yata!" he snapped. "Hands off my bar! How many times do I have to tell you!?"

Yata never got a chance to give him an estimate for that number, because that's when the door opened for the second time in as many minutes and one of Izumo's information wranglers entered hurriedly. Izumo put the mixer down as soon as he saw the boy's face.

"Mishima-kun," he said. "What's happened?"

Mishima Jun's raccoon daemon scampered along the ground behind him and up onto a bar stool as his human walked quickly around the side of the bar, like he was bringing something toxic to dispose of it. What he was actually bringing appeared to be a small, square cardboard box with a sparkly purple ribbon tied around it. Both the white box and the ribbon were noticeably stained red in a few places—fingerprint marked, it looked like. Izumo recognised what the shade of the red likely meant at once, and foreboding filled him.

To assure him the feeling was not misplaced, Anna started suddenly with a little gasp and put her hands over her eyes and her head against Mikoto's side where he'd been sitting next to her. He quietly stood up, let Scheherazade take his place in Capuchin form, and brought himself and Kol to the disturbance that in only a few seconds had captured the entire room's attention.

"What's that?" Izumo asked, exchanging glances with Mikoto before looking back at the box.

"I didn't open it, Kusanagi-san," said Mishima. Chiaka hopped onto the bar to get a better look at the box, but flinched away almost immediately. "It was..." his eyes slid to Chitose for a moment. "Um, it was Honda Rei-san. She gave me the box. Said to give it to Suoh Mikoto; tell him she was returning what belonged to him..."

Dewa groaned and dropped his head into his right hand, elbow resting on the table. His serval swatted Chitose's scrub hare across her ears.

"Didn't we tell you there was something wrong with that girl?" she muttered. The hare cringed.

"How did she seem?" Izumo asked, by now serious enough that the Clansmen were beginning to go on guard.

Honda Rei had, as far as anyone had known, been merely the latest in a long, long line of women Chitose had dallied with; not even the first to run away at the mention of HOMRA. Apart from Dewa, none of them had actually met her.

"There was blood all down her front," said Mishima. "But... I don't think it was hers."

"Chitose..." groaned Shohei. "You have got to start filtering out the murderers!"

Several other Clansmen present began making their own annoyances known and Chitose was shrinking back in his seat, but Izumo ignored this and focused on the matter at hand, untying the bow so he could pull the ribbon off the box.

"When did this happen?" he asked. There was a strong smell of blood coming from within, and mentally he was preparing to formulate a response to an attack.

"Just now—she came right up to me at the information point and handed it to me, then went back down towards the river."

Izumo exchanged looks with Chiaka, the same thing running through both their minds—whether to send someone after the girl immediately or not. After a moment, she shook her head. He was more reluctant to lose this opportunity, but if Rei was dangerous and he sent someone out unprepared... well, if his suspicions about what was in the box were right, things were bad enough already.

He locked eyes again with Mikoto before he made the move to open Honda Rei's 'gift'. People often thought Mikoto stupid, and in many areas they weren't wrong, but when it came to understanding how and when to protect their Clan from outside threats, he was second to none. Izumo could see the flames begin to light in his friend's eyes, the stirrings of anger and the promise of the violence that was his prerogative.

At length, Izumo took a deep breath and finally lifted the lid from the box, brushing white tissue paper aside to find...

Fuck.

It was worse than he'd imagined. He replaced the lid immediately, fingers tight on the edges. Mikoto exhaled heavily, and Mishima gagged and stumbled back.

"All of you," Izumo began slowly, addressing the entire bar. "I want you to contact every member of HOMRA, now. I want you to note their whereabouts and get them to come here, now. I want you to make sure they're not injured, and I want you to make sure it is them by voice confirmation—no texting."

"What was in the box, Kusanagi-san?" asked Chitose. You could tell he was more frightened than the others, though by now everyone was on edge.

"Just do it," Izumo ordered. They hopped to it. Mikoto narrowed his eyes in question and Izumo sighed, telling him quietly, "I'll tell them once we know who it is."

The Red King seemed to accept that. But Kol was beginning to growl.

What followed were a tense five minutes, as everyone who was in the bar began making phone call after phone call, giving the message, confirming the whereabouts of the recipients, and more importantly, their safety. At one point they were scared Mishima's regular partner Satou wasn't in a position to answer them, but on their third try they got him—still hung over from the night before, and with his shrike daemon grumbling in the background. Mishima at once volunteered to collect him and hurried out the door with his daemon now on his shoulder, clinging tightly.

Eventually, Fujishima breathed a sigh of relief and hit the 'end call' button on his phone.

"He was at his apartment, but he's on his way now. That's everyone."

Right. Well, that was confusing, but also a massive relief. The box's contents could have been faked, after all. The revenge prank of a disturbed mind on Chitose. It wouldn't have been the first time that _that_ had happened either, and with everyone safe it made the most sense, unless—

The bell over the door rang.

With obvious anger, Awashima Seri pushed her way into the building—unusually still in uniform, and with her hair up and sword on her hip. She looked supremely irritated, and as she gave the room a once-over Graziano flew in over her shoulder and landed on the counter.

"Is he here?" she snapped.

Izumo's heart sank.

"Shit," he heard Mikoto mutter behind him.

It didn't escape Seri's notice. "He's here, isn't he?" she asked. "He didn't come back Sunday night and chose not to deign to give us an explanation for his absence today, so I can only guess he's where he always is when he's supposed to be somewhere else. Mixing it up with _your_ Clan."

" _She_ probably goaded him into it," muttered Graziano, ruffling his feathers.

At first, Izumo couldn't think of what to say. The longer the silence lasted, the more the atmosphere in the room tensed, as one by one each of their Clansmen realised that something terrible had happened, and eventually transmitted that feeling to Seri.

Her face abruptly lost its icy coldness and she turned to Izumo, asking him, "What? What is it?"

This was very bad. Chiaka had to touch Izumo's wrist to prompt him before he answered, running his fingers through his hair.

"We received this from a young woman less than ten minutes ago," he said, gesturing to the box. "I ordered the boys to check on everyone in the Clan's whereabouts at once, but we didn't think..."

Seri began moving towards the box even as he was still speaking. She took the lid off without hesitation, then her eyes widened, her face paled, and she put it back.

Without another delay, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and left the bar. Graziano—normally so graceful—actually stumbled off the counter when he followed her. As the door closed Izumo could hear her saying, "Captain, we have a situation..."

She sounded so much calmer than he felt. And yet; he could tell, in his heart, she wasn't. Chiaka kept her hand on his, grasping the first knuckle firmly, and finally it was Totsuka who asked him—

"Izumo... what's in the box?"

Izumo couldn't help but look at Yata. "It's skin," he admitted. "Human skin, that's been sliced off." He paused. "And it has a HOMRA brand on it."

 

*~*~*

 


	6. Hapalochlaena Maculosa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh. My computer got really fucked up when I tried to post just now, so here's hoping it's fixed this time around. Still having to type one-word lines in by hand. So annoying.
> 
> Anyway, the last chapter has had to be split into two parts, which was explained much more cheerfully in my first AN that the internet ate. Bad things happen in this chapter, and Saruhiko uses some bad, bad words. Thanks for any and all support, enjoy the upcoming reveal. ;)

*~*~*

 

"Which bit do you think I should cut off next?" Takashima asked, bouncing from one leg to another. She'd almost have reminded Saruhiko of Doumyoji's pug daemon, only that little thing was really only a danger to herself and anyone who accidentally tripped over her.

"I think we might consider toning it down a little; at least below the point of amputation," replied the cougar.

Takashima grimaced. "I know, Gievf, but we're running out of time," she whined. "I need to know who killed Oni-chan before Wednesday, or we won't get the chance to—"

"Reiko, we lost that chance when you sent your present to Suoh Mikoto. Do you really think he's not going to tell the Blue King about it?"

"Well, he _might_ not."

Gievfrick rolled his eyes. He was lying on a mattress near the radiator licking his paw, and he pointedly shook his head at the huge framed photograph of Takashima Natushiro and his eagle as though the two of them were actually in the room, and not pictures set up as a makeshift shrine to adorn a psycho's torture-chamber.

"Seriously, Gievf—I'm sure the plan will work. And then, without Munakata's protection, whoever killed Natsuhiro Ni-chan will be defenceless, and since the Red Clan was there that night one of them will probably be willing to tell me who he is. As for the Red Clan... eh, I'll give them a pass. Chitose-kun was a very nice person, after all."

Without Munakata's protection? How the fuck did she think she was going to get rid of that? Did she have some kind of plan to kill him? Because short of her brother's plan of getting another King to do it (and that wasn't an impossible task. It wouldn't even have had to be Suoh, after all), Saruhiko just didn't see how it was going to work.

But Takashima apparently had some plan, as she stroked the bloodied knife she was holding over the huge bandage on his chest, pressing against the wound beneath. The wound that, with his sad, pathetic life being what it was, was probably going to go septic and kill him.

Wouldn't _that_ be ironic?

He grit his teeth against the pain. "You think you're going to kill the Blue King, do you?" he asked. "You're even stupider than I thought."

"Oh, not kill him, per se," said Takashima. "You'll see what I have in store—you know, if you live that long. Mwa ha ha ha ha."

Saruhiko stared.

Did she just say 'mwa ha ha ha ha'?

Takashima was grinning and nodding, like she was waiting for him to laugh at her joke; and apparently that had been what she'd been hoping for, because after a few moments she deflated. Then in a fit of pique, she stabbed his left side with the knife.

He didn't cry out. He just grit his teeth and shut his eyes against the pain while Saya jerked slightly on her chain.

It had to have been at least two days since they'd been taken—Takashima had changed her clothes twice, each outfit more garish than the last—and Saya had been handling it worse than he had. That may have seemed strange; but something about those cuffs that that lunatic had put on him was also making the bond between them hazier. Normally that would have been torture in itself, but Takashima had touched Saya more than once, and while the first time they hadn't really felt the effect because of Takashima's powers, Saruhiko was certain he'd be in worse shape than he was now for feeling the full force of that too.

Unwanted thoughts had come to him during their torturer's absence. She'd said her brother had taken the cuffs from the 'hospital' after the Red Clan freed them. He shouldn't have cared, but he found himself hoping they'd never used them on Anna nonetheless.

_They're there to suppress aggressive powers_ , he told himself. _They wouldn't have had any reason to—_

The knife was twisted an inch or so in his side. It wasn't centred enough to strike an organ, but it hurt. She managed to wrench an angry whimper from him, the bitch.

"Sorry! Sorry! That must have hurt. Look... whoever this guy is that you're protecting will know I'm after him by now, so it's not like he'll be totally unprepared, and... well... I really don't blame _you_ for what happened. So _please_?"

It baffled him how she could look like a teenager asking for a curfew extension in her sparkly mauve jacket, skirt and tie, that wouldn't have been out of place on a stage show while she had a knife in his side and blood was beginning to soak into the waistband of his boxers. But shyness could hide a person's true self, so they said, and it just so happened that in this case, shyness hid not some beautiful bird of paradise, but a vicious, homicidal predator who'd spent the morning jabbing a soldering iron on to his other side to make a dotted line in the shape of a pentacle. He shuddered.

More unwanted thoughts in the form of Akiyama's golden retriever daemon chirping, " _Feel better, Saya-chan!"_ were bringing themselves to mind. He still didn't even remember the retriever's name, so there was no reason for him not to give Akiyama up.

Except, of course, that he had no intention of doing favours for someone he disliked as intensely as Takashima. And even though their bond was hazy right now, he could tell Saya didn't want him to say anything either. He assumed that that was for the same reasons.

"Careful, Reiko," said Gievfrick. "We wouldn't want any of his wounds to get infected."

Takashima's eyes widened and she jerked the knife out quickly, making Saruhiko hiss. "Oh! Sorry!" she cried—looking and sounding like she actually meant that, in a clumsy I-just-spilled-my-coffee-on-you way. "I'm really sorry. I've only read up on this kind of thing online—this is my first time actually doing anything like it—"

BANG.

Suddenly there was a noise from outside the room—one Saruhiko had come to recognise as the outer door to the staircase that lead to this room being opened. Takashima jumped, and for an insane moment Saruhiko actually imagined there might be some kind of rescue party on the other side, but of course, there wasn't, as Takashima soon lit up with a smile and bounced up and down excitedly.

She turned and did her ungainly toddler-walk to the door, crying, "Moleman!" in an even higher-pitched voice than usual and throwing the door open. "You came!"

There was a rustling sound coming from the staircase outside, apparently an important enough disruption that Gievfrick left his vigil at the candlelit shrine, got up and padded over curiously.

"Who's that?" Takashima called up to whoever she had expected—who must have brought company.

They descended the flight with a soft 'clunk' after each step that made it sound like they were dragging something down behind them. Saruhiko didn't hear them answer the question.

Then Takashima cried, "Oh good—you used the cuffs on him!" and he felt a sudden elation that he didn't understand, a second before a bulky figure in a huge overcoat and hat that obscured pretty much all of himself shuffled into view with a familiar form slung over his shoulder.

Saruhiko blinked to assure himself he wasn't seeing things.

No. He wasn't seeing things. The person that 'Moleman' was throwing to the floor just inside the door, was a semi-conscious Misaki. He pulled a sack in after him and tossed that down beside the prone form, harshly enough that the top opened and Kiki flopped halfway out, groaning.

Misaki. Misaki was there.

Saruhiko felt... scared.

"How did he find you, though?" Takashima was asking.

Whatever the mysterious 'Moleman' said, Saruhiko didn't hear it. He saw some kind of pale small mammal—a mole, by any chance?—peek out of one of the deep pockets on the overcoat, then submerge itself again.

"That's good," said the cougar. "They won't have put a tracker in him like the Blues do, so without his phone they won't be able to track him."

Saruhiko's left arm still throbbed from where they'd cut the SCEPTRE 4 regulation tracking chip out.

Takashima froze suddenly. "But we didn't put anything down outside of Mole-chan's place!" she cried. "The sniffer dogs could follow the trail!"

Moleman flinched.

"She's right," said Gievfrick. "You'd better get back there and put the stuff down, then get to a safe location until this blows over; we can't thank you enough for all you've done for us."

"Oh, they're coming around," Takashima announced, and sure enough, Misaki had turned over onto his back with a groan and started blinking against the too-harsh light.

_Idiot!_ Saruhiko thought desperately. _For once in your life be smart and play dead or something, she isn't some brainless thug you could defeat without your powers, so just stay down there!_

The other guy, whoever he was, put a hand on Takashima's shoulder and definitely said something to her; Saruhiko could just about hear him mumbling, but the words were almost completely muffled by his coat. He was surprised Takashima could understand anything even standing right next to him.

Lower lip trembling, Takashima threw her arms around the man and whispered something to him in turn. True love, perhaps? Saruhiko probably didn't want to know. Prince Charming left forthwith, shuffling out of the chamber after giving Takashima a farewell pat on the head. Disturbingly, it made Saruhiko think of Munakata.

Takashima was silent for a moment after that; almost nostalgic-looking. Gievfrick sighed and nudged her thigh.

"Come on," he said. "We should get that thing down here before anyone wandering around upstairs sees it."

Anyone wandering upstairs? Were they beneath a building? An _occupied_ building?

"Mm..." said Takashima. "But let's secure Yatagarasu-san first."

With that she turned straight to the sack Kiki was lying in and casually reached for her.

Saruhiko went from nothing right past red in no time at all. He saw _white._

"Get away from her!" he screamed.

His captor stopped in her tracks, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop at all.

"Get the fuck away from her, you fucking bitch! Don't you dare touch her or I swear to every god and deity on earth I will pull your daemon's eyes out with my bare hands and crush his fucking skull! I will burn you both to death with acid if you lay one finger on her you cocksucking whore, I will break your ribcage open and sell your corpse for dog meat and then I'll dig your fucking psycho brother up and use his skull as an ashtray—you have no idea what the fuck I'm capable of, you stupid fucking lunatic, so don't even think about touching her with your fucking filthy hands, you _cunt_!"

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

The shocks coming from the power-suppressant cuffs made him scream every word louder than the last, though his whole body was shaking from pain and probably from the natural electric charge his body held being disrupted so that by the time he had to stop for breath he was twitching like a mental patient. Takashima stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Oi, Saru," Misaki moaned in annoyance. "The fuck're you yelling about?"

Blinking, Takashima stepped back in an exaggerated fashion and allowed a similarly shocked-looking Gievfrick to dump Kiki out of her sack fully and begin to drag her by the scruff of her neck, while Misaki stood up on shaky legs.

_Stay down, you idiot,_ thought Saruhiko desperately. _Stay down._

Misaki wouldn't have listened even if he'd said it out loud, of course. He pointed a finger at Takashima accusingly. "You're the one who kidnapped Saruhiko!" he said.

Saruhiko let his head fall back against the post with a thump.

Takashima smiled. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked.

With a smirk, Misaki began to glow red.

"Isn't that obvious?" he asked. "I'm going to rescue his sorry ass."

 

*~*~*

 

Two minutes later, Misaki was chained behind Saruhiko on the same post, struggling in vain.

"My hero," said Saruhiko dryly.

"Shut up, Saru!" Misaki snapped at him. "What was I supposed to do, hit a girl?"

_A daemon-touching girl? I would have cheered you on if you'd ripped her fucking throat out._

He hadn't told Misaki about the whole daemon-touching thing though, and he didn't plan to. He didn't want to risk permanently affecting Misaki's perception of him, diluting it with pity, and more than that he felt... _ashamed_ , that he'd allowed it to happen at the hands of a girl like that.

Kiki groaned in frustration as pulling against her own chains failed to gain her any ground and she slumped against the cement floor.

"It won't stop shocking us!" she complained.

Saruhiko wasn't worried. He'd heard even pigeons eventually figured out not to repeat the action that gave them electric shocks over and over. Right now he was more concerned with the noises coming from the staircase outside the room again.

CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.

Takashima was pulling something very heavy down those steps.

"How did you find me anyway, Misaki?" Saruhiko asked idly.

Misaki growled. "Don't use my first name, Saru. That Heartless Woman was there when we got the package that had your... anyway, she called out the rest of you Blues, and your King tried to get one of them to track the scent, but that girl had put this chemical down outside, and it knocked both your guy and his daemon out and they had to take him to hospital."

The 'guy' in question had likely been Benzai. His daemon was the best tracker. And wait—why had Takashima sent _that_ to Suoh instead of Munakata? Did she actually think they'd want it back?

"Anyway, they said he'd be fine, and your King started going on about 'deductive reasoning' trying to figure out where you were, but that sounded like a load of bullshit to me, so I just went out and started looking on my own. And I found you; because I really wanted to!"

Just like Saruhiko had really wanted for them _not_ to join HOMRA, and look how that had turned out. No, Misaki had found him through sheer dumb luck. Emphasis on 'dumb'. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"Anna couldn't find you either for some reason," Misaki went on. "They found that tracking chip—which, by the way, is really creepy that you let them put that in you—right where the eagle-guy died and your King figured out it must have been his sister." Misaki paused. "That guy... it was weird. I can't think of what was different about him to his usual creepy self, but somehow I felt like he was _really_ angry when they figured out the Rabbits gave you guys bogus information about her daemon."

"I wasn't thrilled about it myself," muttered Saruhiko. "Though you know, he only seemed angry because the youkai that ate his daemon and replaced him was angry, and that energy must have bled through. She likes me, you see, because I always bring her the freshest victims."

To his surprise, Misaki snorted. "Shut up, Saru," he said—almost fondly.

At that point Takashima finally made it back to their cell, dragging a huge metal... _device_ with her; roughly cuboid, and with a red digital timer displayed prominently on one side that gave Saruhiko a very bad feeling. She pulled it into the room and huffed with exhaustion.

"You think Mole-chan could have built it smaller," she mused. Gievfrick chuckled.

Misaki tugged against the chains some more, trying to crane his neck around the post to look at what was going on. "What is it, Saru?" he hissed.

Saruhiko sighed. "Well, Misaki, it looks to me like a bomb."

"Don't call me—wait, what!?"

"Got it in one, Saruhiko-kun!" said Takashima brightly, then, more embarrassed, she added, "Oh... I'm sorry if I can't call you that. Would you prefer I use 'san' or—"

"Reiko," said the cougar.

She smiled with self-deprecation and pushed some strands of hair out of her face. "Sorry. Okay, so the plan is _she's_ supposed to be brought here tonight. I get Director Hirazaki down here—show her this, and tell her I'm going to blow up her whole school if she doesn't deliver Lyriba to me at once—Splash! Then I kill Lyriba, and one of the Reds is bound to give me the name of whoever killed Natsuhiro Oni-chan, and then I can avenge him!" She clapped her hands together.

"What's she talking about, Saruhiko?!" Misaki demanded.

Saruhiko would have liked to be able to answer him. But Saruhiko honestly had no idea what half of that had meant, and with the suppression cuffs blocking his link to Saya, analysis and deduction were currently not his strong suits.

Only...

There was something...

_"I have to see about a certain delivery on Wednesday..."_

_"...for whatever reason, he didn't go back to that school... and if it wasn't the home life that was unusual, it must have been the child himself..."_

_"Very wrong. But I like it."_

_"... could go miles and miles away from their daemons. Always birds, always flying off somewhere..."_

_"... and we got a distinctly cold impression from him..."_

_"... the two actions [swimming and flying] often use the same motions."_

...

Fuck. That idiot. That fucking idiot.

"...fucking idiot..." he muttered.

"Hey!" Misaki shouted. Then he groaned with frustration. "Okay, I get it, Saru—I'm stupid, I don't know what anyone's talking about, look at Yata—he's a moron, ha ha ha—"

"Not you!" snapped Saruhiko impatiently. "Munakata!"

"What?"

What indeed. That 'splash' had been the thing that really clinched it—the 'school' Takashima had mentioned must have been the Atlantis Institute; the only place they could stick you if you were stupid enough to have your daemon settle as an aquatic—and yes, people didn't _choose_ what their daemon settled as, but it was a matter of fact that aquatics generally had more wrong with them than just the problems their daemons caused them. Mentally, he meant; there were a lot of autistics and other weirdos in that group.

_Like you can call other people 'weirdos'. You're worse than all of them._

Anyway, Munakata had been expecting some kind of 'delivery' on Wednesday, which by Saruhiko's reckoning was today. Munakata had, according to Kusanagi's research, had to be pulled out of normal school because of his daemon settling. His daemon was probably cold-blooded, and probably Separated, but not a bird, a bug, or a bat, and swimming could be the same as flying.

So it stood to reason his daemon was an aquatic.

She was an aquatic, and somehow—probably from the Golds, given their current track record— Takashima had found out she was being brought back to the Atlantis Institute from who the fuck knew where she usually lived tonight, and she was planning to...

_Fuck._ How vulnerable was this daemon when she was apart from Munakata? Would the power of the King protect her or would she... would Takashima... ?

He couldn't breathe.

"Saruhiko!?"

"Oh. I think he's figured something out, Reiko," Gievfrick murmured silkily.

Takashima cocked her head and pranced over to him, bending with her face right up to his to look him in the eye. She put one hand over the bandage on his chest and pressed against the wound again. It made him start to sweat, even though the room was freezing, and that made him start to shake.

"Poor Saruhiko-kun," she said, her face screwed up with pity. "But you know, I read the report the Blues wouldn't give me—those Golds really need better security. They said Oni-chan kissed you before he took you hostage—"

... how the hell had _anyone_ known that? Or had he done it again while Saruhiko had been in too much pain to remember, the fucking freak?...

"—so how would you like me to give you a little present, and take Oni-chan's last kiss away at the same time?"

She wasn't going to... shit. She was. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, gently.

His heart slowed so fast he feared it had stopped but with her mouth covering his he couldn't breathe properly. Misaki was shouting something in the background but it was like it was all drowned out by white noise. Vision blurring, he was vaguely aware she was using her powers on him somehow, but it didn't help him think when she pulled away and laid her head against the wound. This time, it didn't hurt at all. But he felt sick anyway.

"Oni-chan's last kiss," she whispered. "I hope it brings me good luck."

Then she reached up and ran her hand down Saya's tail.

"Good-bye, Saya-chan," she said. "Wish me luck!"

And with that she started skipping towards the door, hands behind her back like a small child at a dance recital. Gievfrick had a lazy, satisfied look on his face when he followed her. It was harder for Saruhiko to see them the further away from him they got, his eyes kept focusing on the flashing red lights of what he guessed was the bomb's timer, though he didn't know... didn't know...

BANG. The door closed, and with another loud clunk was locked too. Takashima's footsteps were heavy on the metal staircase; she must have been jumping on them and it made it seem like the whole room was shaking.

"There's something not normal about that girl," Misaki said, what felt like a hundred miles away from him.

Takashima—not normal?

Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!

"Saruhiko?"

A piercing scream filled the room like a tidal wave, making Saruhiko seize up against the post and convulse twice before he realised the scream was coming from Saya.

"Saya?!" Kiki cried through the scream and the haze. "Saya, what's wrong? What's wrong, did she hurt you?" (They must not have seen.)

_Don't tell them_ , Saruhiko thought. _Don't you dare tell them._

Saya, as always, did not listen to him.

"She touched me! She touched me! She touched me! How could you let her do that to me _again_!?"

"What!?" Kiki spluttered, and Saruhiko heard her moving behind him on her own chain. "What do you mean—she can't have actually done that, no one would—"

"Shut up!" Saya screamed. "Shut up! This is all your fault! You made us come to this place! We didn't want to, but you made us! We hate you! We hateyouhateyouhateyouhateyouHATEYOU!"

Saruhiko almost choked with anger. "Shut the fuck up, you weak little shit—don't you _ever_ say that!" he shouted.

"You shut the fuck up, Saruhiko, you obsessed fucking faggot! You love him more than me! You've always loved him more than me!"

"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"Saruhiko, please stop—you're freaking me out, seriously!"

Stop? He wrenched his head back against the post, striking it as hard as he could. Stop? He did it again. He had to get away from here; from her, from himself—from everything. He smashed his head back again. And again. And again.

"Saruhiko, stop, please!"

_Stop._

He had to get away.

With a kind of snapping sound he suddenly felt that something weird had changed within him, but with his head throbbing, his mind all over the place and his body frozen and on fire all at once, he couldn't figure it out until he found he could just hear the slight jangling of the now-empty chain to his left.

And, out of the corner of his eye, see the cobra slithering towards the radiator.

He couldn't breathe.

There was...

... a gap. And then...

"Mikoto-san!"

"Yata! Yata, can you hear us!? Are you down there!?"

A sniffing sound made it seem like Yata had been crying before he called back, "Yeah!"

"Is Fushimi-kun with you!?"

"Yeah, he's here, Totsuka-san—please, tell Mikoto-san to hurry, there's something really wrong with him, and Saya went off somewhere and I can't see where she went!"

"Hold on, we're going to blast the door open!"

Red.

The red was what finally induced him to open his eyes. He saw the outline of the door across the room turn red and shift, the door knocked off its hinges with a noise that should have been a crash and a scream but sounded more like rushing water. It fell, allowing that sickly red colour to spill into the room, so warm that after days of being chained up almost-naked, it felt like it was burning him.

Suoh Mikoto's red had never been the shade of red that Saruhiko liked.

And there he was. A shadowy blur in the doorway, exuding red aura—the huge lion at his side, shaking his glowing mane. Kusanagi, Totsuka and Kamamoto ran in from behind him; the latter two straight past the bomb and towards him, the other stopped in his tracks by the huge device.

"Uh oh. This doesn't look good."

"Yata! Yata, are you all right!?"

"Is that a bomb or something?"

"Or something. The timer's stopped, but I'd be careful around it nonetheless."

"Where's the girl?"

That last one jumped out from the other voices he couldn't distinguish in his state. The girl... where _was_ the girl... ?

Saruhiko became vaguely aware that Totsuka and Kamamoto were right beside him, craning necks from side to side to look for a weakness in the chains.

"Looks like Anna was right about the suppression cuffs!" Totsuka yelled, and so close to Saruhiko that being half-out of it made the words ring in his ears. He must have flinched, because Totsuka lowered his voice hastily and said, "Sorry, Fushimi-kun!" Then to the others—"That's why she couldn't find them—the cuffs also disrupt the bond between human and daemon; makes them not look like themselves, psychically speaking! It's lucky she got Yata's location just before it cut out!"

The curly-haired guinea pig popped up out of his pocket. "I think we may need the King's help on this one, Tatara," she observed.

"Mikoto-san!" called Kamamoto.

"Just get him out of there quickly," snapped Misaki, "he's not... she _really_ hurt him!"

Totsuka was flitting from side to side, staring at him. It was making his head hurt.

"He's right, there are cuts on his arms and legs—and there's a wound on his side that looks really bad, and some burn marks on the other!"

That was not what Misaki had meant, and Saruhiko could tell. Then suddenly Suoh Mikoto was right there next to Totsuka and looking at him like it was something he was watching on TV.

"He seems worse for wear," he said, tiredly. "Munakata won't be pleased." With one step backwards, he added, "You're up, Kol."

The lion didn't need to be told twice. It padded around Suoh's side to Saruhiko's right and approached the chain. Saruhiko couldn't really move out of its way more than an inch than he already was, but fortunately the post was big enough that Kol was able to get his jaws around the chain without touching either him or Misaki, as in the background Saruhiko began to think that the voice calling 'Saya? Saya?' wasn't just in his head, but something Chiaka was saying out loud.

Kol bit through the chain with ease, glowing red as he did so, and as he was no longer being held up, Saruhiko saw himself falling forward without actually feeling it. It took him a long moment to realise his head was resting against Suoh's chest, and he could smell burning coming from the man's clothes. The King's hands were on his arms, steadying him. Saruhiko did not like this.

Behind him, Misaki stumbled away from the post and shrugged off Kamamoto's attempts to steady him as Kiki shook herself angrily at his side, also freed.

"I'm fine!" he growled. "I just need to get these cuffs off!"

Cuffs... off...

The cuffs that were keeping Saruhiko's connection with Saya from reaching its full strength...

_Wait a minute..._

"Guess I'd better see to this guy first," muttered Suoh.

There was a sharp, hot feeling near his wrists.

"Mikoto, wait!" screamed Chiaka.

And Saruhiko just had time enough to register how overly familiar it was for a person's daemon to refer to someone by their first name before the suppression cuffs fell off his wrists and suddenly he felt like a whole different person, and at the same time not a person at all.

_Strike_

The pain, the fear, and the rage all slammed back from Saya and into his chest, with the overwhelming urge to—

_Attack._

He was on the floor; armless, legless, hiding in amongst the broken metal furniture and looking up at the monkey—Chiaka, slate-grey and white fur trimmed with gold on her sides and on her ears over black, shock-filled eyes. The same eyes that had looked at them with calculated predation as she'd exposed their defect to that pack of worthless sewer rats, and Misaki.

_Defend._

That woman wasn't in the room—where was she? She'd said she was coming back, they had to get _out_!—but her eyes had left marks they could feel on their skin even now, marks that for all they knew would always be there, staining them, when she'd had no right to—

_Strike._

Saruhiko looked up, and through two eyes saw Chiaka, who was hastily backing away, while through the other two he saw Suoh Mikoto, who he hated.

_Strike._

He hated...

_STRIKE!_

Both parts of him lurched forward in attack, overcome with hostility to anything and everything in the vicinity, and while Saya's fangs failed to find Chiaka's grey fur, Suoh's reactions were slower, and Saruhiko felt the edge of the man's t-shirt in the right-hand corner of his lips as he bit down hard just above his collar bone, hissing viciously.

The blood was warm against his teeth.

"Saruhiko!"

Misaki cried out, but Suoh didn't make a sound, only brought his hands to Saruhiko's shoulders instinctively, and put a surprisingly gentle pressure on him to back off. Well, it wasn't so surprising when you took into account that pushing too hard could have prompted Saruhiko to bite down with enough pressure to tear a chunk of the King's flesh away with him as he was removed.

_Bite down hard. Fill him with venom. Kill him._

"Ah, ah, ah—Fushimi-kun, don't!" Totsuka stammered, way out of his depth by this point as there was no way things were just going to work themselves out, and fire-butterflies probably weren't going to do the trick either.

At the same time, Chiaka cried out in fear and Kusanagi echoed her, stumbling back away from the bomb and towards Suoh with Chiaka leaping onto his shoulder. Saya left the pile she'd been hiding in for a better visual of the situation, coiling and recoiling, moving constantly to confuse the moving creatures she could only see as enemies.

"What the hell is that!?"

"Saya!"

"Saya!? That's not Saya! That's a snake!"

He couldn't tell who was talking. He felt like screaming, shut up, shut up, shut up, at them for trying to say what was and wasn't Saya. They could be a snake if they wanted. They could be anything.

They didn't have to be _human_ , for one thing.

"Oh, _Saya._ Izumo, she's shifted..."

One of the female voices gasped. One of the daemons tried to approach Saya, but she hissed, spat, extended her hood as far as she could and retreated to the other side of the room, in sight of the door. Their only thoughts were to get the fuck out of there, and at that moment whatever pull there might have been on their bond was nowhere near enough to keep Saya from travelling further away from Saruhiko.

"Izumo... I'm starting to feel kind of uncomfortable."

"If you can bare it please do, Mikoto, I really don't want to spook Saya while they're in this condition. Fuck... Yata, what the hell was that woman doing to them?"

There was a pause.

"Yata?"

"... she said she touched her. I didn't think it was true, but..."

"Fuck. Mikoto, I honestly don't know how to deal with this—we need to keep them both safe until Munakata gets here, but I'm not comfortable leaving the others in the building with a woman capable of... _that_ , wandering around. If she finds one of them, and we're not—oh shit, no—Saya, stop!"

Saya did not stop. Scared, stupid little snake; she took the opportunity of Kusanagi babbling to make a break for the open doorway. There was a tight feeling in Saruhiko's chest that was the beginning of the touch of pressure on their bond, and then...

THUMP.

Saruhiko bit down harder on Suoh's shoulder as something fast and heavy suddenly trapped Saya in place on the ash-stained floor just beyond the door. This time Suoh actually made a slight noise, pushing a little harder against Saruhiko's shoulders, but the far louder cry came from Saruhiko himself, wailed into Suoh's shirt as on the other side of the doorway Saya screamed and struggled, but could not move Gievfrick's paw a millimetre.

"Is that a snake, Gievf?" said Takashima's voice, seeming much closer than it actually was.

"It's the lizard, Reiko," he huffed. "I told you she was a chimera."

"What, she shifted?!"

Clunk, clunk, clunk. Like a little girl skipping down the stairs.

"It appears so."

"Oh, dear. Oh, I really didn't mean for that to happen—I swear! Here, I'll take her for you!"

_I'll take—_

Saruhiko had enough time to look up pleadingly into Suoh Mikoto's face and see the confused frown on the other man; and Misaki enough to yell 'NO!' and leap forward, before Takashima reached the bottom of the steps and swung herself down to scoop the cobra daemon up with her cold, cold hand.

Several people screamed at once. Saruhiko couldn't identify them all, jaw wrenching open to try and get away from the woman assaulting them; only she wasn't even in the same room, all he was doing was pulling away from Suoh and falling back against someone else—probably Totsuka—with a whimper that the sudden freezing feeling pulled from him before his head began to feel light and distant—like the first time.

Absurdly, he was actually grateful she was using her powers on Saya. He didn't think they'd be able to handle the effect of her being touched _sober_ right now.

When he was able to exert some focus on his surroundings again, he found himself listening to Takashima say, "Wait, wait, wait! I have a hostage, guys—come on! Don't be stupid!"

"Put her down!" shrieked Kiki, bounding forward. "You put her the fuck down, right now!"

Gievfrick jumped over to meet her in half a second, and with one swipe of his paw knocked her right back across the room, roaring. Misaki cried out in pain and stumbled back in line with Saruhiko, who reached out for him without thinking.

"Misaki..." he whined, hand closing around the other boy's t-shirt.

"Argh!" exclaimed Takashima. "Okay, seriously don't do that again, guys—hostage." She waved Saya around a bit, hand just below the cobra's mouth where she couldn't bite her. The motion made Saruhiko lurch away from whoever was holding him upright, towards Misaki.

But he was coherent enough not to be surprised at what the Red King said, and with actual urgency:

"What are we doing now, Izumo?"

"Before you answer that, Kusanagi Izumo," interrupted Takashima, "you should remember I have more than poor Saya-chan as leverage. This bomb could blow the entire Atlantis Institute sky high, and considering its structure would probably drown everyone down here when the daemon-housing tanks burst under a thousand tonnes of water! That goes for anyone else you have in the building. I'm only after two people—Munakata Reisi, and whoever shot my Oni-chan, so if you let me carry out my plan you'll all live—even Saruhiko and Saya-chan here!"

Saruhiko tried to bury his head further into Misaki's chest. He wasn't sure if he'd _want_ to live after this.

Then Takashima addressed someone else; someone Saruhiko didn't know and hadn't noticed was there—who knew in all this chaos when she'd appeared.

"That goes for your staff and students too, Madame Director—as long as you bring Lyriba to me as I asked."

"I've sent for her, Takashima-san. Please... let that boy's daemon go. Lyriba is already on her way."

A very tall, heavy-set woman of about thirty was in the doorway behind Takashima, the heels of her shoes making tiny rattling noises against the metal floor as she trembled. She had a transparent plastic bag filled with water in one hand, and in that bag a strange creature swam back and forth frantically.

"Hotaru, you can't let her..." said the creature—who looked like yellow seaweed in the shape of... a seahorse? "Reisi-kun may not be a student here anymore, but we're still responsible—"

"This is what _she_ told us to do, Zirin," said the woman. "But there's no reason for you to hurt one of Reisi-kun's people, so please..."

Takashima rolled her eyes and groaned. "I'm not hurting her!" she insisted. "I'm a _Strain_. My powers are drugging her so she doesn't feel it, so there's nothing to worry about! It's not like she wasn't messed up even before I got here—you noticed it right away, didn't you, Gievf?"

_No,_ thought Saruhiko. _Don't you dare. Not in front of a stranger. Not in front of Misaki._

He clutched the other boy tighter, and apparently seeing nothing else he could do, Misaki put his arms around him protectively.

_That's it, Misaki. Don't listen to her. Just focus on me._

The cougar nodded. "One wonders what your precious Reisi-kun was doing with a _chimera_ as his third-in-command. The way I hear it, he's put lives in danger just to piss off the Red King."

"Personally, I think he did it purely to insult Natsuhiro Ni-chan's memory," said Takashima, and for the first time Saruhiko could hear the depth of the rage that Gievfrick sometimes roared in the voice of his human. It was dark, and quiet, and painted over with a casual tone that didn't quite hide it; but it was there, and it scared him. "Because he hated him so much for taking out one of his precious puppies. He wanted a constant reminder of how my Ni-chan looked when he had him murdered, by having this guy always by his side, and he didn't even care that he was a chimera!"

There was a dark silence. And then suddenly, her voice brightened.

"Or maybe he just had many uses for a snake who could unhook their own jaw!"

She waited for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, she added—

"You know." In a stage-whisper: " _Blowjobs._ "

Kusanagi grimaced. "Thank you, Reiko-san, explaining the joke always makes it funnier. Now listen. Despite what you say I think it's obvious that Fushimi-kun is suffering quite badly, and he has done _nothing_ to you, or your brother, so if you could please—"

"Izumo!" Chiaka interrupted suddenly, horrified.

She didn't say anything further, so whatever she'd realised must have passed to Kusanagi directly, through their bond. Saruhiko was getting nothing much from Saya but vague discomfort, and was glad for it.

Probably the monkey had realised that the Director of their local Atlantis Institute was about to hand over the Blue King's daemon to a psychotic lunatic, a fact that filled Saruhiko with more dread than he thought possible—because what would happen to him if anything happened to Munakata?— even making him reach for knives that weren't there to try and defend his... to try and attack Takashima, before remembering he was defenceless; so that his hands just twitched uncontrollably around Misaki's shirt.

But before any of them got to voice their concerns there was a familiar clunk from the floor above and Takashima's face lit up with glee.

"She's here! She's here!" she cried, jumping up and down on the spot. "We're about to meet the Blue King's daemon, Gievfrick!"

Anyone among the gathering who hadn't realised what had been going on before, certainly realised it now, and the Director put her head into her free hand, long black hair falling forward. The reaction Saruhiko was most interested in was Suoh's, and to his dismay he saw the Red King's eyes widen in shock. He'd have been the one most likely to know if a King's daemon was vulnerable or not, and the look on his face did not promise a bright future for 'Lyriba', or her human.

Takashima danced from side to side like a groupie at a rock concert. "Oh! I wonder what she'll be! You'd think she'd be a shark, wouldn't you, but that Gold Clansman didn't say—he just said she'd been at the Institute. Do you think she's a shark? What kind of shark do you suppose she'd be—maybe a hammerhead, because they're so weird and so's the Blue King!"

Saya jolted up and down with her movements. Misaki began stroking Saruhiko's hair comfortingly. The two actions should have cancelled each other out, but he felt them both, and equally.

"Maybe a tiger shark," laughed the cougar, "to contrast the Red King's lion."

However, 'Lyriba' was none of these things. Whoever had been sent to fetch her—a man with a simple puffin daemon—carried a flat trolley with a mounted water tank down the steps single-handedly. He was a muscular man, and it still looked to be quite a task for him, but there was no way a tank as small as the one that was placed at the bottom of the steps held anything like a shark.

"Oh, no," said Takashima with some disappointment. "She must be smaller than I thought."

Puffin-daemon and their human made themselves scarce, and quickly. Takashima motioned for the Director to fetch the tank, grinning wildly, tightening her grip around Saya in her excitement so that for a second neither she nor Saruhiko could breathe; and the Director obliged her with an expression of despair. The five present Reds stood cautiously, perhaps as curious as Takashima on one level, and four of them would have been looking to Kusanagi to come up with a plan.

But Kusanagi seemed stuck—perhaps waiting to find out what 'Lyriba' was before he made his move, so he could account for what eventualities she may have affected. Idly, Saruhiko remembered that 'Lyriba' was not the name Miwa Ichigen had used back at the tower a month ago.

The tank the Director wheeled into the room was about fifteen inches high, and wide, and thirty inches across. The sand at the bottom was white, and there were plants and fake plants and brightly coloured rocks all along the bottom.

And, from what Saruhiko could see, nothing else.

Was it really just an empty tank? Had the Director just been stalling?

That same thought seemed to cross Takashima's mind; she hopped around the tank, bobbing her head around as she inspected it, and her face fell with every passing moment.

"I don't see her!" she whined. Then, with an angry huff, "you'd better not have tried to trick me, Director Hirazaki. I can send this place sky high at the touch of a button, and last I heard, fish couldn't fly!"

"Oh, you'd be surprised what some of us could do, Takashima-san."

_Munakata_

The voice that suddenly spoke to their captor was female, and came from the tank, but Saruhiko associated it on instinct with Munakata so strongly, that for a second he thought he'd been the one who'd spoken, and looked around for him. As he did, he saw Suoh looking at the little box of water with probably more interest than he'd ever seen on the man's face for any reason. Kol even started to move closer to it.

Takashima blinked almost comically, and leant closer to the tank, un-latching the lid and throwing it off the top.

"Lyriba-san?" she asked. "Is that you in there?"

"As you requested, Takashima Reiko."

"I can't see you." Takashima bit her lip with worry before continuing. "How am I supposed to kill you if I can't see you?"

The voice chuckled. "How indeed. I _am_ in here, Takashima-san, don't you fret. You've taken such pains to be able to meet me that I must admire your ingenuity and persistence. I'm honoured, really. Such a talented girl I rarely get a chance to meet—and with such a _striking_ daemon too."

Oh yes. This was Munakata's daemon all right. You'd never have guessed if you didn't know the man, but Saruhiko could _feel_ the contempt and loathing dripping from her every word, even though he couldn't _hear_ it, even though he'd never heard it from her human—not to that degree.

"Show me," Takashima said eagerly—desperately even, now she was so close to her goal. Her fingers gripped the top of the tank with her excitement. "Show yourself to me, Lyriba, and I'll let your Clansman go—just let me see you, let me _crush_ you, and this will all be over!"

Every pair of eyes in the room but the despairing Director's, even Saya's—in all her discomfort, were locked onto the small tank of water.

Every breath was held, every body stilled, every daemon quiet; even in the minds of their human.

Saruhiko felt himself smiling, and he didn't know why.

"Well, when you put it like that," said Lyriba. "How could I resist?"

A moment later, one of the bright yellow rocks in the water lit up with dozens of blue rings.

 

*~*~*~*

 

The change was so abrupt and yet so small and subtle that Saruhiko was surprised that everyone was able to see it, and yet the collective flinch let him know they had.

She had been camouflaged perfectly against the rock, moulded her body to resemble just another outcrop, flattening parts of herself into the hard surface she was latched onto; a daffodil kind of yellow mottled gold until the spots appeared over those darker patches. They flashed a deep, ultramarine blue ring around a black centre, and in a single movement she detached herself from the rock and twirled her eight slender arms around the water.

Takashima stepped back with shock, then burst out laughing.

"You're an octopus!" she cried. Then she laughed some more. "Oh; a tiny, _helpless_ little octopus—look at that, Gievfrick, she's so small!"

Indeed, she was small—about as big as a hamster, though the arms made her seem bigger. But when you looked at her with Gievfrick's head cocking to one side through the glass and water on the other side of the tank, or with Kol standing only a few feet away, staring blankly, she seemed dangerously small. Dangerous for everyone else, that was. After all, size of a daemon was rarely any indication about the person, and fuck; even Perikhadi was bigger than this little monster.

But before Saruhiko could remember that he knew nothing about actual octopi, Takashima's hand swooped into the tank in a flash, grabbed Lyriba, and pulled her out.

"No!" screamed the Director.

Kusanagi and Chiaka both turned their eyes away in sympathy, though Saruhiko could not for the life of him define the look on Suoh's face when Takashima held the wriggling daemon up into the light, water falling onto the floor with sickly-sounding drips.

And for some reason, he himself couldn't feel anything about it at all.

"No!" the Director cried again, "no, you can't!"

"It's all right, Hotaru-san," said Lyriba. She sounded entirely nonplussed. "You don't need to worry about me. Remember, you're representing the Institute, after all."

"Lyriba-chan..." moaned the Director's seahorse daemon.

Lyriba, contrary to how any normal daemon would act when assaulted in such a way, curled her tentacles around Takashima's fingers and sat there. "Well," she said. "It seems you have me right where you want me. I'm eager to see what comes next."

Takashima stretched and contracted those fingers; dark, dark eyes somehow growing darker, bashful smile crumbling into the smirk of a cold-blooded sadist.

"Can the Blue King feel this from where he is, Lyriba-san?"

"Oh, certainly," said Lyriba. "And he can hear everything we're saying. So if you have any messages for him—oh. Reisi, did you forget to tell me that the Red King was here too? How mean. I don't know how anyone can stand you without me around to distract them—you know I've wanted to meet him for more than a year now."

She uncurled one tentacle and waved it.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said. "Even in unusual circumstances."

"Doesn't this hurt?" asked Takashima before Suoh could figure out whether to return the greeting or not, squeezing her again with little more anger and disbelief amongst her wonder this time.

"Hurt?" Lyriba repeated. "Well, I can't say it's pleasant exactly, but then, I am used to a certain amount of discomfort that comes from settling so inconveniently. Of course, there are several possible reasons I'm not reacting the way you would expect, including such things as my settled species in itself having a very different nervous system, or even just my being the daemon of a King. It's a very interesting subject now you've brought it up, I should like to entice Reisi to research it further—what do you mean you're too busy? You are such a liar. Isn't he, Fushimi-kun—you spend more time with him than I do."

Saruhiko couldn't help but wheeze out a laugh before he answered.

"He's a liar all right."

Takashima glared, shaking a little. "Well, his lying days are over now. I don't suppose you'll give me the name of which of your Clansmen murdered Natsuhiro before I kill you?"

"Did Fushimi-kun not tell you?" Lyriba asked delightedly. "What a good subordinate—I'll tell Reisi to give you a raise. Though I suppose that won't go through if Takashima-san kills me right this moment. Would you be willing to wait, Takashima-san? I promise I won't go anywhere before I get a chance to talk to the lion. Is that him over there? He's wonderfully ostentatious, don't you think?"

Unable to stay quiet any longer, Gievfrick roared and knocked the trolley back towards the door with enough violence that a large amount of water sloshed over the top of the tank and onto the floor.

"Wait!?" he snarled. "Wait!? We've waited months for this! That owl-bitch refused to give us a name over the phone, so we had to infiltrate the Gold Clan as a temp worker—only that didn't give us access to the information we needed, only to the gossip. We brought those smug corporate assholes their fucking coffee for months to gain what little we did find out and spent our dead parents' life savings hiring identity forgers and hackers for this freakish institute's database! We didn't eat for days at a time until Kenji-kun was finally released and took us in, but we're still hungry, hungry for the blood of the monster who murdered our brothers; my brother, who loved us unconditionally, who were ours, _ours_ and you took them away from us! I swear, you are going to die screaming the name of the dog who pulled the trigger, if we have to pull every one of your arms off, one by on—!"

"Gievf," Takashima interrupted.

She was shaking much more noticeably now, and not with emotion. Her voice was small and frightened.

"Gievf..." she said again, "... I can't see."

"What?" The cougar stopped in its tracks. Saruhiko's breath caught in his throat.

"I can't see," she repeated. "I can't... ah! I can't see... or feel... anything!"

"That would be the venom," Lyriba explained cheerfully.

Venom.

Of _course_ she was venomous. Of _course_. In a single motion her tentacles uncoiled and she began to crawl up Takashima's arm, much faster than one might have thought her capable of.

"Tetrodotoxin," she continued, while Saruhiko began to silently laugh to himself. "Most daemons don't have all the specialised skills of the animal they settle as, but some do—and I am one of the lucky few; though it didn't seem all to lucky when we discovered the ability. Luilla and I were only playing at the time—that's my sister, in case you didn't know—and I accidentally injected the toxin into her and through her into her human, which was a very frightening thing to happen, let me tell you. And what with my beak being so small and sharp it's very likely you likely didn't even notice the bite I gave you when you picked me up, which just goes to show that's not something you should be doing, really."

"Anti... dote..." choked out Takashima.

"For the venom of a blue-ringed octopus? I'm afraid there isn't one. Sadly, I happen to be the only octopus whose venom is fatal to humans." She sighed. "Bad luck, Takashima-san—I win. Anyway, what shall we play next, Saya-chan?"

 

*~*~*

 


	7. Chlamydosaurus Kingii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here I am, a week and a day late due to a combination of Easter and Camp NaNoWriMo. But here it is, the winding down chapter--and we are almost at the end, though there may be more camp-related delays. Still, though it is shorter and there is less action in this chapter, there is much interaction, and I hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you for all kudos and comments! XD
> 
> N.B. As you may have figured out, the chapter-titles for 'Chimera' refer to the species of daemons featured in the chapter in question. It's unfortunate that the species name of this particular daemon brings to mind something else entirely, but I hope everyone can be mature enough to... oh, who am I kidding? I mean, I wish there was a different daemon to use for the title, but there isn't. Sigh. Enjoy the chapter anyway, everyone!

*~*~*

 

The one harsh light that hung above their heads cast dark shadows on the faces of those present. It made the smirk that was beginning to appear on Suoh's face seem particularly demonic, and yet made Misaki look even more distressed as he probably struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Takashima emitted some kind of high-pitched whine, and Gievfrick tried to go to her, but his legs seized up after a single step and froze him in place, while Lyriba glowed the same blue that all Blue Clansmen glowed—a far less obnoxious light.

"Let me get this unfortunate human's hand off you first..." she said.

She actually flash-stepped, or flash-slithered rather, across Takashima's trembling shoulders and down her other arm to the hand that was holding Saya, wrapping two tentacles around the woman's thumb and forefinger and wrenching them open. That she'd have that kind of strength seemed ludicrous, but Saruhiko was distracted from those thoughts when some of Lyriba's other arms embraced Saya beneath her hood.

The edges of his vision immediately went blue, prompting him to relax against Misaki.

Once, Munakata had had what had felt like at least an hour-long ramble about the colour blue when Saruhiko had been stuck in his office. He'd sounded like he'd read a few books on the subject or something, and for emphasis he'd been putting together this thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle entirely composed of slight variations in the colour blue; the kind you'd have had to be an obsessed lunatic to attempt, and some kind of obnoxious savant to complete. Which he had.

The thing he'd said that Saruhiko remembered now, however, was how most of the colour blue that people saw in their everyday lives—the sky, the sea, and even the irises of blue-eyed people, were all actually illusions. Those things were not really blue, in that they did not reflect light that travelled along the part of the visible spectrum designated 'blue'. Rather, like a sunbeam through a prism, white light scattered into its six composite colours when it came into contact with certain particles in the atmosphere or parts of the eye, and the blue part travelled further because of its wavelength, which is what people saw.

Or something—Saruhiko had been trying to focus on not throwing a knife at his King while Saya had been listening attentively, so their combined memory of that incident was probably not entirely accurate. The point was, blue was more often illusion than most colours, but that was part of what 'blue' was all the same, and in Saruhiko's mind more so than it standing in for serenity, or for sadness.

How _unfortunate_ that Takashima hadn't known how little this colour could be trusted. The perfect colour for someone like Saruhiko really, and thus why he'd relaxed; pain dulling, fear dispelled, like rain into the ocean. Misaki gave him a curious glance.

Saya's relief came from something less abstract, however.

"I know!" exclaimed the octopus. Once she'd removed Saya from Takashima's grip entirely she held her up without trouble and then actually floated into the air, two arms around Saya, the others stretched out and manoeuvring her around as easily as they would have had she been in water. "Let's tease that smug-looking lion! He looks like he could do with a bit of waking up."

As she spun in the air and swooped towards Kol, Saruhiko could feel, through Saya, a similar feeling to what he'd felt when Munakata had first made him a Clansman. A sort of... revitalisation, that rather than being cold to contrast the heat of the Red, did not conform to any extreme of temperature, but resonated with them on a level they would not ordinarily acknowledge in themselves.

And she could hear their King's daemon—their Queen, if you would—though she didn't say this out loud, and it might have been a figment of their damaged mind. But through Saya, they heard her, real or not—

_"Look at you, Saya—you're a snake! And what a pretty snake you make too. But are you sure you're a snake, Saya? Which aspects of a snake do you reflect now that you weren't before? Aspects that are truly part of you? Will people recognise you like this?"_

Were they a... ?

They _could_ be. Most would have thought it better than being a chimera, because at least they could supposedly move on now that they were in a real form. And who cared if people recognised him? Surely 'people' wouldn't, for one?

Lyriba waved Saya's tail back and forth in front of Kol's face while he, his human, and the rest of the Red Clansmen were staring dumbstruck at them.

"Ooh..." she said—definitely out loud this time. "Here, kitty-kitty! What's this!? Come play with us, kitty-san, I promise we'll go easy on you!"

Kol swiped his paw out, confused but at the mercy of his feline side in that moment, and Lyriba dodged him easily.

"Too slow!" she exclaimed. Then she laughed. "Try again, my fluffy little lion—ten points if you touch me, twenty if you knock me off course, fifty if you bounce me off a hard surface and one hundred if you pin me into place!"

In Saya's head, Saruhiko heard,

_"I think we're going to give him a run for his money, Saya! I think he doesn't know what to make of me! Or maybe he's just a little dim, what do you think? Does he know who you are?"_

Did anyone—was the clear implication in that question.

Did Lyriba, for instance? Or did she think she did, through her bond with Munakata? Was she asking because she thought they _shouldn't_ be a snake; as if they could just change back now, now that they'd been forced into this shift after two years as a lizard? And yet, wouldn't they _prefer_ being a snake to being a frill-necked lizard; a creature that was, frankly, all but harmless?

Kol looked to Chiaka for her instruction, while Lyriba continued to wave Saya around—and gently. Only, as she'd said, to tease Kol a little. Saya didn't even really notice it.

"The points are doubled if a Clansman gets us. What do you say, little wolverine? Shall we all play together? Not the cougar, of course—he's paralysed. But everyone else can play!"

The 'little' wolverine looked hundreds of times bigger than the octopus, her head lifted up from where it had been lying nervously against Misaki's leg to stare at Saya being flown about the room.

_"Does she recognise you now, Saya?"_ Lyriba asked inside their head. _"Does she know what it is she's looking at?"_

Saruhiko actually gasped. It was small enough it could have been mistaken for inhaling deeply, but it didn't change the motive behind the action, because the answer to Lyriba's last question—and Saruhiko could tell from the doubled confusion on Misaki's face—was no.

No, Kiki didn't recognise them. This snake wasn't what they'd wanted her or her human to see.

And as the small bursts of gold dust rolled off Saya's body only a moment later and peeled away the bulk of the snake's skin to go back to the chimera underneath, Saruhiko thought _'Clever little octopus,_ ' finding he didn't mind this particular manipulation too much.

Once Saya had fully reverted back to her normal form, with two new black marks on the sides of her frill like those on a cobra's hood, Lyriba dropped her softly back onto Saruhiko's shoulder.

"I win!" she declared. "Now let's play underwater hide-and-seek!"

"Saya!" cried Kiki, sounding like she was crying with relief. "You're back!"

Saya rested her head against Saruhiko with exhaustion. They were both unbelievably tired; residue from Takashima's powers dulled both the pain of Saruhiko's injuries and his senses, and Takashima was still standing somewhat lop-sided and barely balanced with tears now streaming down her face as the cougar suddenly flopped down against the floor, hissing to itself.

But he didn't want to sleep just yet.

Lyriba twirled in the air, stopped, then turned back and announced, "Oh, the others are coming—don't tell them I'm here, I want to jump out and surprise them!" and hurled herself back into the tank of water, laughing and splashing Takashima.

Totsuka seemed to visibly deflate, his sigh was so pronounced, and his head fell forward onto Suoh's shoulder and stayed there. Kamamoto stood there looking lost, and Kusanagi was the first to speak.

"Well," he said. "We were right about Munakata, it seems."

"Hn?" said Suoh.

"He is definitely an unusual person."

"Nn," said Suoh.

Outside, they at last heard the echoing footsteps that promised the arrival of the proverbial cavalry, and the Director called out to whoever was approaching to guide them to their location. But the one who arrived there first was not Munakata. Saruhiko didn't hear Akiyama come down the stairs—the other man switched to flash-stepping as soon as he heard the Director's voice, and came at the room with such ferocity that he smacked into the wall side-on.

His sword was already drawn, the expression on his face was frantic, and turned furious when he caught sight of Takashima. Saruhiko hadn't forgotten how Misaki had told him whatever chemical Takashima had been using to prevent herself from being tracked had sent Benzai to the hospital, and Benzai was Akiyama's roommate and usual partner.

And yet, Akiyama changed focus as soon as he noticed Saruhiko, and he and the retriever daemon dashed to their side.

"Fushimi-san!" he shouted.

Saruhiko cringed. What did _he_ want?

The retriever leaned in almost too close when she reached them, enough for Saya to feel the heat from her nose as she whimpered softly before turning to look at her human, who was checking Saruhiko over for the more serious wounds. For some reason he pulled his uniform coat off, even though it was so cold in that room that Saruhiko had stopped shivering.

"Here, put this on, quickly. We're about the same size."

Oh. _That_ was why. Saruhiko hadn't even considered...

Again the retriever whimpered, and then she turned around and growled viciously at the still-paralysed Takashima. Speaking of illusions, Saruhiko was lead to recall how although retriever-type dogs were seen as the friendliest and best for family life by the public at large, they were responsible for more serious bites annually than any other breed.

He wondered if this retriever had reached the point where she was going to bite back at Takashima.

" _Tien Lin_ ," Saya told him groggily, through their bond. " _Her name is Tien Lin._ "

" _You knew her name after all?"_ he tried to scoff at her.

_"Don't be an idiot. We know all their names. Zarinda. Ekatzanya. Jem. Hethsebore. Mitsuko. Sharei. Briarwynn. We even know the little four-eyes from Information and her Yorkie, Andomaru. We know them all, really."_

She was right. And in the interest of her not reciting the names of all the HOMRA daemons as well, Saruhiko didn't try to make any objection. But they were just names, names written down in personnel files, knowing them didn't mean anything.

The warmth coming from the coat Akiyama was gently coaxing his limbs into didn't mean anything. Of course it was warm. The other man had been wearing it.

This wasn't his own version of Misaki's super-best-friends-forever club. It was a job; and they were just colleagues.

Whatever that meant.

"We need to get you to a doctor," Akiyama muttered. "Is Takashima Reiko pacified?"

"I don't think she'll be causing any more trouble for the foreseeable future," said Kusanagi, smiling.

Akiyama wasn't satisfied with that though, and stood up angrily, snapping at the shaking woman—

"Next time, have the respect to come after me directly, instead of torturing my colleagues!"

Takashima made a little whine of frustration.

_You idiot,_ thought Saruhiko. _If she'd known who you were and had the 'respect' to come after you directly, you'd be dead already._

"I think we were rather hoping there wouldn't be a next time, Akiyama-kun."

Saruhiko snorted, and shifted so he wasn't leaning so much on Misaki. _Now_ that guy had decided to show up.

Munakata Reisi strolled casually into the room—stopped to say something reassuring-looking to the Director with the seahorse daemon, and smiled warmly at Saruhiko as he approached them, with only a half-second's glance at Takashima and the tank of water his corporeal soul was hiding in.

"Took you long enough," Saruhiko choked out.

The smile grew wider and the Blue King paused in his tracks. "My sincerest apologies, Fushimi-kun. But I was with you in spirit—for at least the last five minutes. You've done well."

"Yeah, I'm brilliant at getting captured."

"Can you stand?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Do you really want me to try?"

More footsteps on the metal staircase heralded the arrival of Awashima and Graziano; followed by Kamo, Enomoto, Fuse, and Gotou, with their daemons.

Ekatzanya, Hethsebore, Mitsuko, Sharei.

"Takashima Reiko!" Awashima called out—angrier than Saruhiko had ever seen her; and somehow with a different anger too—not annoyed or in contempt as she usually was, more like she truly hated Takashima—almost vengefully. "You are under arrest. In accordance with protocol 120, subsection D, the use of suppression cuffs is allowed in the course or your arrest. Is it safe to take her in, Captain?"

Munakata changed the direction he was travelling in to Takashima, cocked his head, then slowly—very slowly, raised two fingers to her sternum and prodded her with a single, quick movement.

She toppled over to the floor immediately.

"I think we'll be all right," he said. "Make sure she receives the appropriate care, Awashima-kun."

With that he went back to ignoring her, and went over to Suoh instead.

"I must thank you for tracking her to this location, Suoh Mikoto," he told him. "While Lyriba and I are Separated, her ability to defend herself depends in part on my proximity, so if you hadn't let us know where you were going we may not have had such a happy ending."

Suoh raised his eyebrows. "That's funny, because I don't really remember telling you where we were going, Munakata."

"Really? I assumed when your advisor neglected to take precautions to disable our routine surveillance, it was your way of inviting us along."

Kusanagi laughed. "You would assume that, wouldn't you?"

"Still, with Lyriba's identity revealed, I can't help but feel a little apprehensive," Munakata continued, on the verge of a smirk and sounding anything but apprehensive. "What do you think, Suoh? Will that special spark in our relationship go out now that the mystery is gone?"

"Munakata," said Suoh fondly. "The flame of my dislike for you could never die."

_Get a room_ , Saruhiko only refrained from saying out loud because he felt so tired.

"Identity... revealed!?"

Kamo's spluttering outburst had Saruhiko glance over to the others, whose daemons were manoeuvring Gievfrick into place so that a large daemon-carrying stretcher could be placed beneath him, while Awashima was carrying a cuffed Takashima bridal-style to keep her airway open. Lyriba probably hadn't been lying when she'd said there was no antidote for her venom, but Saruhiko imagined there must have been a treatment of some kind.

All of them were looking shocked—some surreptitiously scanning the room for signs of another daemon as Munakata turned back to them and beamed. Enomoto's poodle-daemon Hethsebore was the one who first had the idea to approach the tank, however; drawing the eyes of the others towards it as well with every step. She tilted her head slowly to one side.

"Boo!"

Lyriba lit up her blue rings and revealed herself, making the poodle stumble back with a small scream and trip over the prone cougar's twitching paws before jumping back up to stand next to her shocked human, as he and the rest of SCEPTRE 4 drew back in surprise. After that, Lyriba glowed and flew out of the tank again, laughing and twirling so that she flung water everywhere.

"I win again!" she shouted.

"And as always, you are a graceful winner," said Munakata, rolling his eyes.

The eyes of each of Saruhiko's colleagues widened in disbelief, as one by one Lyriba flew towards them and bobbed around their heads for a moment or two, before moving on to the next one. Saruhiko had heard that aquatic daemons outside of the water caused severe reactions in their humans—panic attacks, convulsions, seizures, sometimes even death—but Munakata looked perfectly fine standing in front of Suoh and shaking his head. Of course, aquatics weren't supposed to be able to fly either.

"Hm? What's that you said?" Lyriba asked breezily. "Because it sounded to me like 'all work and no play makes Reisi a dull boy'."

"And if I'd introduced you to the Clan earlier, that work would probably have decreased in productivity by at least four percent in favour of playing games."

"A whole four percent, huh?" Kusanagi interjected. "I can see why you took such drastic measures."

Munakata glanced at him with a kind of smug look and said, "Quite," before coming to kneel before Saruhiko and Misaki, still talking to Lyriba. "I'm going to take Saruhiko to the hospital now," he told her. "Do try not to distract our Clansmen so much that they let Takashima-san die, I need to talk to her about how she was able to access the information that lead her here."

'Saruhiko'? What the hell? Munakata had _never_ called him 'Saruhiko' before...

"Not at all, Reisi. I've been planning for a long time what would happen when I finally met the lion. We're going to play lion-tag, then lion-hopscotch, then lion-hide-and-seek, where I hide in his mane for as long as it takes him to notice, then—"

Munakata leaned in towards Misaki, ridiculously close, and whispered, "I believe this belongs to me," ignoring his daemon's insane babbling.

Kiki growled, and Misaki glared hard for a good five seconds before he averted his eyes.

"You should take better care of him then," he muttered.

"A most valid criticism, Yata Misaki-san. Thank you for your perseverance." Munakata snaked his arms around Saruhiko's shoulders and the backs of his knees, lifting him up cradled against his chest with ease.

The pain was still dull, but the lift made it more pronounced, and Saruhiko said "Ow," in a bored tone.

"Forgive me, Fushimi-kun, you must be in some distress. Withholding Akiyama-kun's identity in the face of such persuasion was very brave."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "I didn't do it for his sake."

In the background, the octopus was laughing for some reason, and Munakata said, "of course not," in such a way that any idiot could have told they were being humoured.

They passed Awashima on their way out of that fucking freezing room; neither she nor Graziano said anything, but gave Munakata a look that Saruhiko couldn't read and Munakata seemed to understand implicitly.

"I think Fushimi-kun will be fine," he said. "Make sure the bomb-squad takes care with that device."

Awashima sighed with relief. "Yes, Captain."

They carried on towards the door. As they did, Saruhiko remembered that night a lifetime ago when he'd fallen into the Blue King's arms after Takashima the Elder had had his brains blown out, how he'd been carried so steadily towards Suoh it had almost felt like he'd been floating. The physical wounds he had this time throbbed slightly with each step this time, but his movement still seemed unnaturally smooth, and he wondered if Munakata was actually using his powers for this.

"Hey, monkey!" Misaki called out suddenly.

Munakata paused, right on the threshold, and turned back.

Misaki's fists were clenched; Kiki looked unnaturally tense. And he shouted, "I'm sorry I didn't take that girl seriously! Even if she was a girl, I should have protected you. I'm sorry."

A tight feeling in Saruhiko's chest demanded he mutter, "Tell him he's an idiot," immediately, before he could really process what might have been going on in Misaki's usually so straightforward mind.

Because this shouldn't have changed anything, should it?

And Munakata called back, "Fushimi-kun appreciates your concern and urges me to relay his heartfelt forgiveness."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes.

And Misaki laughed and wiped a tear away from his cheek.

"Yeah, I thought he'd say that!" he called.

And Saruhiko watched him, and Kiki, whose head was pressed to his leg, until Munakata lifted him up the staircase and away from that place.

 

*~*~*

 

The walls of the Atlantis Institute were lined with aquariums, between almost every room and corridor in such a layout that an aquatic daemon could always follow no more than a few feet away from their humans, with detachable tanks attached to the elevators and gentle corridors of pressurised water next to the stairs.

There were a few useless platitudes decorating the painted walls in child-friendly fonts probably too young for the grades that would have found themselves at the Institute—Munakata being the exception to the rule in that regard. Things like _'Celebrate how being different makes you special!'_ or _'Aquatics swim against the tide!'_ and other gag-inducing slogans were around every corner.

Munakata noticed when Saruhiko scoffed at one of them for the third time.

"A little saccharine for you, Fushimi-kun?" he inquired.

"I can't think of anything that would have made me want to slit my wrists more if I'd been stuck here."

"This place isn't so bad," Munakata told him, an odd note of something like regret in his voice. "And while the words themselves may not speak to me in the way they were intended, I think the feelings of the ones who wrote them there came through."

Saya poked her head out from under the collar of the coat Akiyama had given them and looked at the empty, glowing tanks.

"You and that octopus must have spent most of your life here," she said.

If Munakata had thought it strange the daemon had addressed him directly, he didn't show it.

"A good part of it, yes," he said. "My parents were able to convert enough of our house to a state that was possible for me to live in, but they certainly couldn't have afforded to hire a tutor, and carrying a tank of water around with you everywhere is highly impractical, for several reasons. I lived here during the week and went home on weekends for the most part."

"Was becoming the Blue King what allowed you and Lyriba to Separate?" Saruhiko asked.

"Indeed. My family has come to worry that we must miss each other, spending so much time apart, but I find that is not the case. Since we now have the ability to do things we never could before, we like to make the most of it, and Lyriba spends most of her time out in the open ocean—coming back here and to visit our family only occasionally."

The open ocean? They lived _that_ far away from each other as a matter of course?!

"Doesn't that leave her vulnerable though?"

Munakata smiled. "To what? Animals generally don't attack daemons, and Lyriba knows how to stay out of other kinds of trouble. Though I suppose now keeping her identity a secret will become impossible, we should look to spending more time together. I hope the Red King's daemon will survive her."

"I don't."

"I noticed Suoh-san was wounded—near the neck. I'm surprised Takashima Reiko was able to land a hit."

"She didn't. I bit him."

Fuck. He'd _bitten_ Suoh Mikoto. He could hear Saya snickering at him under the collar.

"Well, it was a good thing you told me. I would rather not think about what might be lurking in that person's bloodstream, so I'll mention it to the hospital staff when we get there."

"Don't want to go to hospital."

"You're right. The medical facilities at SCEPTRE 4 HQ should be more than sufficient."

"Ugh."

There was no point arguing. Munakata pretty much always got his way—always _won_ , as Saruhiko would bet Lyriba put it, and he had to admit it was a little funny to think that beneath that cool, disaffected exterior, there was a little kid jumping around yelling 'I win! I win!' after every awkward card game he forced the rest of them into.

Though she could still keep cool and disaffected while a hostile human was squeezing her. That had to be because she and Munakata were a King, Saruhiko remembered the sensation, and even 'drugged' it had been awful; the kind of awful only Misaki could usually make him feel.

Poor, sweet Misaki. Saruhiko liked to think that what had just happened wouldn't change anything, but he could see it now. See Misaki saying 'I'm sorry', like that was the end of things... It couldn't be the same again now.

He never thought he'd be so tired that that wouldn't matter to him, and yet be conscious at the same time.

Fresh air was a relief, cold as it was when Munakata carried him out the front door and into the outside world, where they were also greeted by a familiar excited bark, and two consecutive calls of—

"Captain!"

\--as Doumyoji, the pug daemon, Hidaka and the husky all rushed over; the pug, Jem, making little whining noises like for once it wasn't happy.

"Is he okay!?" Hidaka asked breathlessly.

Munakata paused in front of them. "Since it's Fushimi-kun, I'm sure he'll be back to his usual charming self in no time."

Saruhiko honestly wasn't so sure. He turned his head a little further into Munakata's shoulder to hopefully communicate to the two idiots that he didn't want to talk to them, but then Saya poked her head out of the collar and hissed—

"Hello Jem-chan; Briarwynn. You two should go inside; there's someone in the basement who wants to meet you."

"S-Saya-chan!" cried Jem—so shocked the lizard had talked to her she actually stayed still for a moment.

Doumyoji and Hidaka exchanged equally dumbfounded looks, and Munakata chuckled.

"She's not wrong," he said. "Get two regulars on the door and join the others; that layabout won't be happy if she misses out on meeting you two along with the others."

" _She_ , Captain?"

"What about Takashima Reiko?"

"Thoroughly neutralised. Now, Fushimi-kun's injuries are not life-threatening, but I am worried about infection, so I'm going to take him back to headquarters for medical evaluation."

"I don't want to go to medical evaluation," Saruhiko grumbled.

"You _do_ want to go to medical evaluation," Munakata replied—a bit less subtle than his usual manipulations. "Doumyoji-kun, Hidaka-kun, I'll leave the rest to you."

"Sir," the other two chorused.

Then Doumyoji said, "I'm really glad you're okay, Fushimi-san—everyone was so worried!"

Well of course _he_ was; who was going to write his reports for him if Saruhiko wasn't around? And Saruhiko almost said that, but something stopped him and he just rolled his eyes. Doumyoji didn't wait for a reply though, he ran off towards the entrance and Hidaka looked like he was almost about to touch Saruhiko's shoulder before he thought better of it, smiled, and ran off after Doumyoji.

Munakata took to the air presently. A circle of Blue aura appeared beneath them and lifted them up into the air with Munakata remaining perfectly balanced in its centre. Saruhiko wasn't yet so tired that that didn't annoy him, you know—Kings and their... well, it wasn't perfection by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the way the other man did everything so effortlessly.

"So annoying."

"What is?" the King asked him.

"You."

"I see."

The air was cold and the moon was almost gone. His wounds didn't hurt much, but he knew the only reason Saya wasn't crawling beneath her own skin was because right now they were numb.

He wondered what it would be like if they could separate like Munakata and Lyriba could. If somehow that would make it easier. He couldn't get over how that guy didn't seem at all bothered by the fact he'd had his daemon touched, when Lyriba had said outright he'd felt it. If they could have been the same...

But no, that was a stupid thought. Something like that wasn't even something that could only work for a King. That was something only Munakata could have pulled off. Munakata and the witches. Cackling over their cauldrons and casting their spells with their minions at their beck and call like decorations more than they were ever like assets.

" _No,_ " Saya told him through their bond. " _That's not what it's like_."

"That's what you say," he said out loud. "But is it true?"

The question could have been for either his other self or his King, but he looked directly at Munakata for the next part.

"Do you know what your Lyriba told her, when she was flying her around the room?"

"I do," said Munakata.

Strange. His smile had slipped a centimetre or so.

"Were you and she just taking wild stabs in the dark with what she said? I never told you anything about... and you still said that, about what Misaki would see when he looked at Saya like you thought it would matter. Even though it couldn't matter, because it doesn't matter what she looks like; he'll never see me the way I want—the way I..."

"No. He won't." Munakata looked off towards the sliver of the silver moon that was still visible, and then looked back and said, "Unfortunately, I'd estimate there was a ninety-eight probability that Yata Misaki-san is exclusively heterosexual."

Saruhiko jerked suddenly, put a hand on Munakata's shoulder and pulled himself up, staring, with only just enough presence of mind for guile that he managed to laugh with a disbelief that didn't come from where he wanted it to seem like it came from, while the rest of his thoughts went into a whirlpool of panic and Saya froze against the inside of the coat. He could feel her heartbeat quicken.

"Wh-what!?" he blurted out at the Blue King, who still smiled with such a serious smile. "What, just because I... because I have an interest that mean I... !?"

"Not just because," Munakata said. "He can't see it, of course, I don't think I could be faulted for saying his talents do not lie in his observational skills—nor would his mind ever reach such a conclusion about you if you didn't tell him outright. Which I doubt you would, at least for the foreseeable future."

"Are you trying to imply that this whole fucked up chimera thing results from me not admitting to myself and that idiot that I'm a homo?"

Saruhiko felt regret at once that he'd reacted so vehemently, and no doubt cemented the idea in that guy's head. Not that it was the wrong idea, but it still wasn't something he wanted to hear out loud. Even Saya would usually only hint at it, but Munakata told him outright, then and there—

"No, you admit that to yourself at least, and you're not the type to feel shame or even anything particularly about your preferences. Your feelings for Yata Misaki don't bother you because he's not female, they bother you because they exist at all, for anyone—and you're of two minds on how to deal with that. Not that I'm in the business of giving out free therapy sessions to my employees, but I will say that I'm aware your childhood didn't prepare you for the onset of these feelings the way most people are."

Well, fuck—was there anything this asshole didn't know?

"So what's your advice, assuming I don't have to pay for it?" Saruhiko sneered, looking out over the city. "Pour my heart and soul out to that moron and be freed from my burdens?"

"No. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be around him at all right now. And I'm afraid I have no other advice for you in this matter."

That was a little surprising.

"Nothing at all?"

"Advice is only helpful if I think you can follow it. I might have certain suggestions in mind, but I know you wouldn't take them into consideration. So they're not helpful."

And he was probably right there. Still, Saruhiko couldn't help but feel like he wanted to prove him wrong about something, which when he thought about it was likely the reason Munakata wouldn't have expected him to take his advice in the first place. At any rate—

"Try me."

Munakata didn't miss a beat. "Find someone else to love. Lover, friend, family, it doesn't matter. Find more than one. Come back to Yata Misaki when he is no longer in danger of consuming you, and if you feel like it, tell him why; if not, don't. You have choices, after all."

Sure. Only it didn't feel like he did. Munakata was probably right, Saruhiko knew that, he could see it—intellectually, but he couldn't feel it, and Saya asked him—

"Who would choose something like us—something like _him,_ though?"

"I don't know," Munakata told them, that serious smile turning a little less so. "You'd have to look around and find out."

" 'Plenty more fish in the sea', is what you're telling me then?" Saruhiko snorted. There was a bird flying past the glow of the moon. "Of course _you_ would. Is it your way of putting yourself forward as a candidate? Is that why you took me in—love at first sight?"

He was joking. Just like Takashima Natsuhiro had been all those long months ago when he'd used the same phrase to taunt Suoh. But Munakata suddenly leaned in close, his lips right against Saruhiko's ear, and Saruhiko's heart began to beat faster.

It wasn't uncomfortable, and that was the strange thing. It wasn't normal, no more than anything else the Blue King did, but he didn't feel like he wanted to move away either, and even though the air was still so cold, his face suddenly felt warm.

"Maybe," whispered Munakata. "But now you've all discovered the identity of my daemon, I feel I need to keep something a mystery."

Asshole. Cryptic, pretentious, bastard, asshole jerk. That's who he was.

So why was Saruhiko beginning to smile?

"So you _do_ also prefer men?" he asked. "They do say it takes one to know one."

He saw Munakata's grin widen out of the corner of his eye.

"That will be the next mystery for the others to solve," he said. "But for you, I'll confirm the answer is 'yes'. It will be up to you to decide whether I might prefer you specifically; if you weren't my employee, of course."

Saruhiko snorted. "Don't play games. Or at least play harder games; I'm above the level where I don't know that you're a King first and foremost, and that means you can do whatever and whoever you want."

Munakata finally leaned away again, still grinning. "What a crude worldview you have, Fushimi-kun."

"It's a crude world."

Munakata didn't have _feelings_ for him. He knew it. The other man was just joking, and it's not like Saruhiko cared either way if he did—except he guessed he'd have been extremely bewildered by it. What would a King have seen in him, after all?

Then again, this was Munakata, there was no way his ideal 'partners' were anything like as ordinary as your average man, so maybe he did...

No. No, he couldn't.

It would have been silly.

(Like the fourth most powerful man in the world having a tiny little octopus for a daemon).

So that should have been it, and he should have been content to fall asleep until they reached the headquarters on the other side of the city and have everything finally be over and done with in regards to those psycho siblings. He was so tired after all.

But that thought, that 'what could he possibly see in me' bugged him. It truly did, even if only because Saya was always reminding him how wrong everything was with them, speaking truths no one else seemed to have the courage to speak, or maybe they were just so wrong that only they could see the things they saw? And yet Munakata saw...

He saw...

" _Ask him_ ," Saya whispered to him. " _Ask him_."

So Saruhiko asked him, "Since you decided not to reveal that mystery, interesting though I'm _sure_ the answer is, perhaps you'll reveal something else instead?"

"Perhaps I will," Munakata said, tilting his head with interest. "Ask me."

...

"Why did you really want me to join your Clan?"

...

And Munakata said—

"There were several reasons. Or rather, there were several benefits, which I'm sure you yourself have realised—that your combat skills were quite respectable, that your intellect spoke of great potential that was being wasted where you were, that it sent a certain message to the Red King and that it brought one of the more chaotic elements of his clan under my order—that it tested my ability to maintain that order; all of them good reasons to bring you into SCEPTRE 4, but ultimately they were my justifications, not the impetus for my decision."

Saruhiko swallowed.

"And that impetus was?"

"Only that it seemed very clear to me that you were extremely unhappy. And the Red Clan either did not notice or simply did not have the will to act." He paused. "And I dislike seeing people in such distress and hoped you might have found it more agreeable somewhere else."

...

"... I was afraid you'd say that," Saruhiko told him softly. He felt Saya relax against him for the first time since he could remember.

"You don't have to be afraid, Saruhiko."

There that guy went again, using his first name.

And it was strange, because as he finally drifted off to sleep there, in his arms—and though he should have known better... for once Saruhiko believed him.

 

*~*~*

 


	8. Thalassarche Bulleri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!
> 
> Well, my little epilogue turned into the longest fix-it chapter of the fic, and it crawled out of me at a snail's pace these last few months but I finished it and averted the apocalypse at the same time. Sorry if this grand finale gets borked, btw; the interwebs are being their usual agreeable self.
> 
> I can now show you the full list of daemons which will be at the bottom of the page; feel free to google any of the animals for pics. Also when I was writing the last conversation up today, I had to take out a simile because it had given me an idea for a whole. Other. Fic. Which will probably never see the light of day, but hey--we can't have everything, can we?
> 
> Questions are always welcome, but may take a while to be answered. Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed this fic. It's been utterly daemonic ;)

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

ELEVEN MONTHS LATER...

 

Much as Saruhiko still hated Suoh Mikoto, he had to admit he had a certain sense of satisfaction in seeing him punch the Blue King so hard in the face that the other man almost fell over.

Next to him, in an old car parked a small way up the road, Munakata's personal gardener-cum-bird-identification expert started in shock, the violet-eyed bird daemon on his shoulder gasping with horror while Saya tittered and Saruhiko tried to hide his own laugh behind his hand.

Various Blue Clansmen and dog daemons cried out 'Captain!' like frightened sheep and Totsuka held his arms up with all haste to try and calm the Red King down, while their own Clansmen stood by in dumb shock and Lyriba twirled in the air as if with the force of Suoh's blow to her human.

Really—you couldn't pay for this kind of entertainment.

The man beside Saruhiko made a furious motion for the door of the car, then stopped when he seemed to notice Saruhiko's amusement at the situation, blinking.

"Am I missing something!?" he cried.

Saruhiko gave him a look.

"He's fine," he said, nodding towards Munakata dismissively.

Indeed, the Blue King had had to step out to the right to keep his balance and bend to redistribute his weight, but a moment later he was upright again and smiling genially with his hand on his cheek.

"I take it that's the most vulgar way to say 'thank you' you could think of," they could just about hear him say in reply to the Red King's blow.

He made sure to turn his head towards the car Saruhiko and the other guy had pulled up in and wink conspicuously.

What an asshole.

Suoh just pushed past him, stormed towards Totsuka and slammed both hands down on the arms of the wheelchair he was in, and leaned in close enough that for one horrific moment Saruhiko was afraid he was going to kiss him. Thankfully that nightmare did not become reality, Suoh instead drew his head back and headbutted the other man sharply.

"Ow!" yelled Totsuka. "Hey—I was shot, you know!"

"We know," said Kusanagi. He was shaking his head and smiling, but at the same time even Saruhiko could see he was on the verge of tears. "We saw the damn video you took of yourself getting shot by a maniac, you bastard."

Perikhadi squeaked indignantly. "Then you should know not to be too rough with us!"

Kusanagi promptly slipped over that verge and into full-blown tears, crying softly into the palm of his hand.

"Hey, hey," said Totsuka hastily. "Everything turned out all right!" and when that quality assurance failed to stem Kusanagi's tears he was apparently compelled to wonder, "Uh... did Munakata not tell you I survived?"

Dewa snorted. "He told us quite the opposite, in fact."

At that point Misaki suddenly wailed, "Totsuka-san!" and burst into loud and noisy wailing, running to the other man and sobbing into his shoulder as he threw his arms around him.

It was an embarrassing display, but at least it had the effect of calming the gardener down.

"Oh, Reisi," the man muttered disapprovingly. "Reisi, Reisi, Reisi. You sadist."

First-name basis? That was interesting.

"I don't understand!" shouted Bandou. "We saw the body in the morgue—we burned it! There was a funeral and everything—and Anna would have known if Totsuka-san had still been alive, right?!"

"Yes," said Munakata, taking his glasses off and wiping them, "of course I would be more than happy to explain—with the assistance of the expert I keep on retainer," he looked again towards the gardener, "and the other players involved—how it was that all this came to pass."

The gardener barked with laughter.

"That's why he had me brought here?" he exclaimed to Saruhiko. "As a prop to his grandstanding? And there was me thinking he wanted to introduce me to his colleagues at long last."

"What were you expecting?" the strange-eyed bird asked with obvious relief. "This is Reisi we're talking about." She cocked her head. "And Lyriba."

Saruhiko frowned at him. "Introduce you to us? What are you anyway, his boyfriend?"

"Hah. No, Reisi could probably do better than me. He's actually my little brother."

So the 'normal' brother that had been spoken of really did exist... and was a gardener. Saruhiko took pains not to let his jaw drop and then had to take even more to keep from kicking himself for not seeing past the scruff of this man to the now-obvious family resemblance before it had been spelled out for him.

There was no corresponding resemblance in the daemon, of course. Like almost a third of the world's population, this guy's daemon was avian; and pretty plain at that, save for the eyes. She was mostly soft brown with a little green; bigger than a blackbird but smaller than a pigeon, and her name was...

... shit, what had her name been again? Oh, yes.

"So that's Luilla," he said. "Lyriba said she almost poisoned you to death one time, how was that?"

It turned out that if there was one similarity between the brothers other than their looks it was how, barring a split-second initial look of surprise, this guy's reaction to Saruhiko's bluntly bringing up shockingly personal matters was amusement rather than outrage.

"Well, it wasn't fun, let me tell you that!" he laughed. "Poor old Lyriba—she wasn't to know, you know. They can release that stuff even without biting if they're agitated and it gets absorbed by the skin easily enough—and I mean she wasn't to know she could do that either. Most daemons can't reproduce venom even if the species they resemble can."

"How forgiving of you," said Saruhiko, sneering a little.

He was vaguely aware of Misaki yelling at Munakata in the background; something about him being a freak who should think twice about messing with HOMRA. The usual.

Misaki never changed.

The brother just smiled at him. "Well, he is my little brother. I have to cut him some slack. Name's Taishi, by the way—Munakata Taishi. And I'm guessing you're Fushimi-san."

A little flash of panic was briefly entertained in Saruhiko's thoughts—though it shouldn't have mattered to him if Munakata talked of him often enough to his brother that the man could recognise him.

Indeed, he almost liked to think he caused his King enough frustration that he had to complain about him to someone.

"Oh, has my reputation preceded me?"

"You kidding?" Taishi chuckled. "Reisi speaks well of all his subordinates, but he all-out gushes over your work."

Saya sniggered, because they should have known by now that Munakata would do something like that. Saruhiko clicked his tongue. What an annoying pair of siblings.

A sudden yell drew his attention away from Munakata's annoying brother and back to the annoying man himself; then on to the person who had yelled, who had been Misaki.

"Hey!"

A glance to Munakata, and _then_ to Misaki; even though it had been Misaki who'd yelled? That should have been so much stranger than it was, and certainly shouldn't have filled him with... what could he call this feeling?

Optimism?

"You're the one who shot Totsuka-san!"

Without thinking too much about it, Saruhiko made a motion to Taishi and Luilla to stay where they were and began moving towards the rest of the crowd in anticipation of a fight breaking out before an explanation could be provided. He'd say the man probably waited for about a moment and a half before he hopped out of the car and followed him.

Further down the street, having either walked up without anyone noticing or, more likely, flown in using the power of the Silver Clan, three figures and their daemons approached. Adolf Weismann was first; still in the guise of Isana Yashiro, and with his green bird daemon fluttering away from his shoulder every so often—they must have been unable to figure out how to get him back in his original body for the time being, or decided it was impossible.

Yatogami Kuroh and his painted wolf were at his side and slightly in front of him respectively, while the Strain girl who called herself 'Neko' clung to Weismann's other side; sugar glider daemon on top of her head. Not a squirrel or a mustelid, as it had turned out; rather a small marsupial.

It was extremely annoying that Weismann had chosen to appear without waiting for Munakata to explain the situation; though if Munakata hadn't had such a theatrical streak when it came to expounding upon his own cleverness in figuring out what had been going on then he supposed the Red Clan might have been well aware by now that this was not, in fact, the man who had shot Totsuka.

Unbidden, Saruhiko's mind turned abruptly to _that_ night. The same feeling of the brick against his cheek as the day he'd been taken by Takashima Reiko. The third time since then that he'd been able to work up the will to go back to HOMRA and resume his usual observances. The absence of the intensity he'd expected in his feelings of jealousy and hatred; the increase in the boredom of it, and paradoxically, the fear.

And then, the gun shot.

He shook his head. Misaki was already throwing his skateboard on the ground, and more worryingly, Kusanagi wiped his tears away and stood up perfectly straight and calm. Several members of the clan were beginning to glow. Among the Silver Clan the Strain whimpered in fright and the Black Dog tensed with his hand on the hilt of his sword, though Weismann himself remained smiling cheerfully and only flinched a little.

Apparently, Munakata's contribution to defusing this situation was to have spent the last couple of years influencing Saruhiko to become the kind of person who now found himself intervening before he had to deal with any more troubling paperwork later on.

"What are you going to do, Misaki?" he called out mockingly. "Kill a man who can't be killed?"

Misaki growled, and Kiki answered for him.

"If that's what it takes, monkey!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. That idiot hadn't even asked what he'd meant by 'couldn't be killed'.

"Your Majesty," Munakata called over to Weismann. "I'm afraid we weren't quite ready for you."

"Yeah," muttered Saruhiko, "because you've been wasting time keeping those idiots in the dark so you can draw out their appreciation of your great detective work."

He could have said much more about his King's conduct, but had to quickly move on to some form of damage control thanks to the Red King noticing who was walking towards them.

The way Suoh's eyes narrowed and lit up as they fell on Weismann were small movements, but Saruhiko doubted anyone missed the way Kol crouched down in preparation to attack the moment he'd turned to face the encroacher. The Black Dog's painted wolf mirrored Kol's movement, and the cat and her daemon yelped and crouched their head down further behind Weismann's shoulder as he finally cringed back—second-guessing his decision to appear, unless he was a moron, or didn't mind risking a light roasting.

Though it was all cringe-worthy.

"Oi, HOMRA," Saruhiko said with no lack of irritation. "That's not the guy who shot Totsuka—or did you all miss it when we blasted the Colourless King's Sword of Damocles out of the sky?"

'We', he said; though Munakata had made sure none of his Clansmen had been near enough to risk the other King using them against him at the time. That had been a boring fight for sure; sitting in the break room and trying to get a rise out of his colleagues over the odds of Munakata's success. They weren't as easy to get a rise out of as the Reds; not even Fuse this time.

And it further irritated him to be reminded of the dopey smile Akiyama had given him, petting Tien Lin's head and replying to his insinuation that they were fools if they believed Munakata couldn't be killed by a supposedly 'weaker' King with, _'It's all right, Fushimi-san. We're all worried too_.'

"You'll forgive me for saying so, Fushimi-kun," said Kusanagi, with the kind of amusement that promised someone's swift demise, "but we have a video that would suggest otherwise."

"Yes, and on the internet there's a video of similar picture quality that suggests the Red Queen of WHORE-MRA and the Blue Queen of SEX-ETOR 4 solve their differences by spanking each other in a dungeon, but I've still yet to congratulate the happy couple on their touching reconciliation."

There was a beat of silence.

That comment kind of sucked the air out of the whole street, but it did achieve its end of giving HOMRA something else to think about other than killing the supposed-teenage boy walking towards them—and Saruhiko felt that if he'd had to live with than image in his mind then so should they.

Still, he and Saya knew well enough to have expected Graziano's peck when his beak grazed sharply across Saya's back below where the cobra-scales used to be.

"Fushimi!" snarled Awashima, while Akiyama dropped his head forward into one hand. "You were expressly told _not_ to go looking for that video!"

Saya rubbed the slightly sore spot left by the disgruntled owl and giggled, realising a second before Saruhiko did that Awashima had just confirmed for all present that such a film did, in fact, exist.

What could he say? Some people in this world were even weirder than chimeras.

"What have you got yourself into, Reisi... ?" the brother's bird daemon sighed beneath her breath.

Lyriba giggled when she heard those words, tumbling through the air past her feathered sister and on to Munakata's shoulder.

Suoh just stood there, blinking.

"A tribute financed by some of the Strains whose enthusiasm for using their powers for vandalism we have had to curtail," Munakata explained. "That said, allow me to introduce my older brother, Munakata Taishi, whose expertise was instrumental in clearing this person of the attempt on your Clansman's life."

"How do those two subjects remotely relate to each other!?" shouted Taishi.

Lyriba continued for her human as though Taishi hadn't spoken. "Our own Information Division, as capable and experienced as they are, simply don't have the experience with identifying bird-daemons as they do with mammals—especially when they're going from a video such as the one you Reds kindly plastered all over the internet."

"No offence to your cinematography, Totsuka-san," said Munakata. "But considering the incident at the Atlantis Institute earlier in the year, we thought it best to have the culprit's daemon identified beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Saruhiko's hand instinctively moved towards his chest, and the mark that stained it. Not really a 'mark' anymore than a car that had been cut in half could be called 'dented'; the whole thing was an ugly mess, but he managed to stop his movement and close his fingers around one of the buttons on his jacket, as if the intent had always been to check whether it was done or not.

He doubted even Misaki was fooled by that, and Saya agreed.

"Nice save," she mocked him.

"Shut up," he muttered back. He didn't bother to mention how Saya's own back had flattened as if in preparation for attack, cringing close to Saruhiko's shoulder.

Takashima Reiko and her sadistic mountain cat would not bother them anymore, stuck in whatever dark hole Munakata had thrown them in after he'd had the information he'd wanted about their contacts. Saruhiko willed her not to bother him anymore, even as Saya's fury began to build, even after those weeks Munakata had stuck him in the place he apparently kept on hand for when his employees went crazy; a very pretty seaside cottage and all, but when 'forced vacation' was the nicest term to describe their stay there...

Well, he supposed Munakata had had to do _something_. Thankfully, they had other things to focus on.

"A Malaysian bird, if I remember correctly," Kusanagi was saying, cocking his head to one side with his eyes on Weismann's daemon.

"Malaysian honeyguide," Chiaka reminded him.

Munakata raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he said. "Very good."

"We know how to use the Daemon Identification Database as well, Munakata-san," Kusanagi assured them. "Are you saying that bird is not a Malaysian honeyguide?" He pointed at Weismann's daemon.

Weismann winced. "I'm afraid that is you, isn't it, Harmozel?"

'Harmozel' giggled nervously.

"Uh oh. We might be in trouble now."

The honeyguide daemon had a voice that was high-pitched and young-sounding given the man's true age, but it was still unmistakably male.

"As ever, Kusanagi-san, very little gets past you," Munakata said brightly. "But since your Clan has—shall we say, less interest in inter-clan cooperation, you wouldn't have had the knowledge to be as intrigued as I was that the figure in your video had the exact same species of daemon as Adolf K. Weismann; the Silver King."

Finally, the promise of retribution disappeared from Kusanagi's face. And, as day followed night, Suoh relaxed a touch—but not as much as Saruhiko would have expected him to. He guessed Totsuka's attack had really been upsetting for the Red King.

How ridiculous was that? What would a King have wanted with someone like Totsuka?

What would any King have wanted with anyone who wasn't a King, other than to be their plaything?

And yet here they all were.

"Further to that," Lyriba continued seamlessly, "A comprehensive sweep of the CCTV in the city revealed images of the individual responsible for the assault accompanied by two further different species of daemon within a seven-day period—suggesting that, unlike the figure our respective Clans had been following since the shooting, the assailant's daemon was unsettled."

Kusanagi's eyes flicked over to the bird on Weismann's shoulder again.

"He's pretty old to have an unsettled daemon," he observed. "Maybe it settled immediately after he shot Totsuka."

"Into a final form? A reasonable assumption," Munakata said. "But into a different sex?"

A pointed look to the brother raised a sigh and a shake of the head before Taishi elaborated;

"What can I say? Birds are my thing—'specially Asian and South Pacific. I took a look at the tape for Reisi and it was grainy, but clear enough to see that 'psycho-guy's daemon didn't have the distinctive yellow patches on its shoulders that the male of the species have. Not that I'd have expected a guy's daemon to."

"And yet," Munakata pointed out, "Harmozel-san does have those patches."

One look at the bird confirmed that for anyone with eyes, while Kusanagi didn't miss a beat before getting his phone out and—if the now familiar sounds of that night coming from its speaker were anything to go by, re-checking the infamous video to make sure Munakata's brother was right about the bird daemon of Totsuka's assailant not having the patches.

The Colourless King's daemon never spoke during the video. But Saruhiko had heard her voice later on, just before she'd tried to blow them all up on the Himmelreich, and she had not only been female, but had also remained unsettled even up to the point of her death.

Meanwhile, the Blue King let that thought hang long enough for everyone there who didn't know the full story—which included most of their own men as well as the Reds—to become even more confused than before, and even Kusanagi sighed and after giving a nod of confirmation to Suoh, shrugged in a helpless manner.

"Identical twins?" he guessed.

Munakata chuckled. "Every Colourless King has a different ability to the last. It seems the ability of this one was to possess other people's bodies and take them over."

"So, this guy was possessed when he shot Totsuka?" asked Suoh, sounding doubtful. Kol snorted beside him, but was less agitated than before in his movements, and Saruhiko felt Saya relax where he hadn't noticed her tense up.

"Unfortunately, it seems the original inhabitants of the bodies that person possessed were either erased or absorbed enough into his own personality that they may as well have been. The only exception being when the Colourless King attacks another king."

Another pointed look, this time at Weismann, and Kusanagi finally got it when Chiaka facepalmed on his shoulder.

"He's Adolf Weismann—the Silver King," she said.

Weismann bowed. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"You would have saved us a lot of trouble if you'd mentioned that before, Weismann-san," said Kusanagi, grinding words out through his painful grin.

"Ah, that would have been nice, wouldn't it?" agreed Weismann. "Only it seems that being thrown into another body gave me an acute case of amnesia, so I was as confused as anyone about what was going on."

"But all's well that ends well, as the saying goes," Munakata finished.

There was a long silence.

"I need a drink," muttered Suoh, and lightly hit Totsuka over the head. "Come on, idiot."

"Eh?" Totsuka exclaimed. "But there are a few more things I'd like to..."

He trailed off when he realised Suoh wasn't listening, and Kol had already crossed back to the other side of the street towards the bar. Lyriba sprang from Munakata's shoulder and flew towards the wheelchair-bound idiot, hovering above his shoulder with her rings glowing.

"I am available for any further questions you may have!" she declared brightly.

To Saruhiko's amusement, Totsuka sounded almost annoyed when he replied, "Well, that would make a nice change to how you've been since this whole thing started. If I'd known you'd been keeping it from my friends that I was still alive—"

"You would have tried to leave the secure facility," Munakata finished for him.

"With even more effort than you already did, we mean," added Lyriba. "Sorry, Totsuka-san, but with so little known about our enemy it was best to take every possible action to make it appear he had succeeded in his initial goal in case he tried to come after you again."

Totsuka made a face like he accepted what was being said but was still displeased by it, and Perikhadi a whiny burbling noise that frankly brought Saruhiko no small satisfaction—it was about time those two felt bothered by something in the world.

"What about the body!?" cried Misaki, still unsatisfied. "The one we burned on the beach!"

"Easy enough to mock-up," Awashima said matter-of-factly. "Though I'll admit it was a surprise Yoshino-kun was so knowledgeable about such things..."

"And Anna!?" Kiki demanded. "How did you fool her!?"

Lyriba swooped towards the wolverine and sent her scooting back half the length of her own body; snarling at the octopus with distinct embarrassment at the fact that she'd flinched so conspicuously. In response, the blue rings lit up on Lyriba's body, and she explained—

"We already knew suppression cuffs disrupted her powers, weasel-san. Over the past year we had developed several theories as to how we could expand on that technique to hide potential charges from Kushina-san without causing the distress to the subject that the cuffs do."

"Don't call me a weasel, slimeball!" snapped Kiki.

Chiaka leaned further forward on Kusanagi's shoulder. "And the method you found was..."

"Rather pointless if it's explained to those we hope to use it against, don't you think, Mona-san?"

Their blue-ringed Queen had used Chiaka's particular variety to address her, rather than just calling her 'monkey', Saruhiko noticed. He idly wondered if that was deliberate due to his own presence. The method in question was, in fact, merely an expansion on the idea of the cuffs—same technology, except instead of disrupting the flow of energy through the body in two bands of metal around the wrist, it used a whole room of the stuff to block the signal from the Slate itself, which also shut out Anna's scrying ability but didn't affect the bond between human and daemon.

Actually, it wasn't even as effective as the cuffs, but on someone as weak as Totsuka it had worked like a charm, and Kusanagi was probably clever enough to figure it out for himself after a minute's thought. Hopefully it would be considerably more difficult for him to figure out a countermeasure.

Of course, Misaki was a different story.

"Huh!?" he yelled. "What the hell are you thinking—that we'd let you get away with that!? Who knows what underhanded things you sneaky Blues are going to get up to where you think we can't see you!? Not to mention there's no way I'll accept your reasoning for keeping Totsuka-san locked up; as if HOMRA couldn't protect him from some... body-snatching psycho! Who the hell do you think—!?"

Strange, how Saruhiko's heart didn't feel like it was going to twist and burn out of his chest when he reached out and grabbed the back of Misaki's t-shirt, cutting him off almost like he'd have done before they joined HOMRA all those years ago. Strange how his fingers didn't shake so badly he felt like the bones would break as they gripped the fabric, as they might have done this time last year. Strange how the two auras that dwelt within him weren't fighting against each other to be the first to flow out from his body and attack, to drive a viper's fangs into a living body.

"Come on, Misaki," he muttered. "The Blue King has better things to do than listen to barking from some HOMRA punk."

Strange how Misaki struggled in his grasp, but didn't try to blast him away for doing it. Saya even went so far as to scamper down his back and jump onto Kiki's; in such a position that the wolverine couldn't fling her off, even though she snapped at her. Saya even laughed without derision as she did.

"Who're you calling 'punk', asshole!?" Misaki fired back at the same time. "I can't believe you knew about this the whole time and didn't say a word—do you have any idea what we were going through!? Didn't your Clan feel what it was like to have something happen to a comrade back when that... that woman..."

The fury in his tone abruptly petered out as Misaki probably thought he'd brought up something he shouldn't, and trailed off in the middle of his sentence. But though Takashima Reiko's madness remained etched on his body, Saruhiko was less than cowed by the mere mention of the woman.

"Hmm?" he replied. "Aren't you forgetting that SCEPTER 4 doesn't need an overly-cheerful life-coach who's otherwise useless to keep them from burning their own house down at any given moment?"

"You say that again about Totsuka-san, you damned monkey, I dare you to say that again! Are you forgetting everything he did for _you_!?"

Was Misaki still forgetting that Saruhiko really didn't do gratitude? Even if, he supposed, there were _technically_ things Totsuka had done for him?

"It's not like we owe him anything," muttered Saya.

That was true—he'd more than balanced the books by taking the idiot to the ER while the rest of the rat's nest had been nowhere to be seen. And if flash-stepping all the way across a city was hard, flash-stepping across a city while carrying a guy who was about five times heavier than he looked (and a guinea-pig) was a previously unheard of level of hell.

"I don't think he was that heavy, Saruhiko," Saya muttered. "I think you're just weak."

Abruptly, likely realising what Saya had meant, Misaki stopped dead and put an extra burst of strength into throwing Saruhiko's arm away. Saruhiko was prepared for a fight until he saw the look on Misaki's face; a look strangely alike to the one he'd worn the day Saruhiko had drawn burnt skin across the mark Misaki had been so proud of. And yet, that wasn't the same horrible satisfaction he got from looking at it; nor was the feeling in those eyes even close to what they'd been that day.

It was better than that. It was like Misaki was actually seeing him—even if only for a moment.

"Saruhiko..." he said, voice much smaller than before. "Saruhiko, I had forgotten but... you're actually the one who saved Totsuka-san and Perikhadi-san, aren't you?"

"Tch. I got him to the hospital. Even then they said he only had a one-in-four chance of making it."

So Munakata had told him later, when he'd awoken after collapsing from the strain of the flash-step. The odds had jumped to fifty-fifty after Totsuka had survived the first surgery, but by that time Munakata had already delivered the moderately exaggerated news of his death to the Red Clan, who had been searching frantically since finding the camera bloodstained and abandoned on the roof.

"But he did make it," Misaki insisted. "And that was because of you." He averted his eyes. "... thank you."

"We didn't do it for him," Saya hissed, still clinging to Kiki's back.

Misaki rolled his eyes. "Well why the fuck did you do it then, monkey!?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, but that was more in annoyance with Saya than with Misaki. "Mostly because I was bored, Misaki," he told him.

An obvious lie, and one he doubted Misaki had the mind to offer up an argument for, even if it was see-though enough even for someone like him to decipher. And yet, even as the matter should have been dismissed, something bugged him. Something bugged him, and Saya turned her head towards him but spoke through their bond and not out loud.

_Who did we do it for then? For Totsuka?_

_For SCEPTRE 4?_

_For Misaki?_

No, no, and funnily enough, no. No, but then why had they done that, instead of staying on the ground, reporting the gunshot and waiting for backup? Well, that wasn't really their style; they'd have gone up to see what was happening either way, but why then put so much effort into saving Totsuka? Why had he not even had to think about what to do before he was already racing across the rooftops to the nearest ER?

Shouldn't he have just scoffed and said 'I told you so' as Perikhadi melted away? Wasn't that the kind of person he and Saya were?

Or was that more like a cobra than a lizard?

"Tatara!"

Having dragged Misaki right past the door to the bar and halfway down the street in order to stop him from making himself even more angry at the Blue King and having no desire to go back into the bar itself, Saruhiko found himself turning back around at the sound of the familiar voice; as strange as it sounded crying out when it was usually so calm.

Anna ran out from the bar, scarlet cap falling off her head with the force of her movement—immediately forgotten. Her red dress flew out behind her, and a moment later so did Scheherazade, and there was something about her that had Saruhiko staring in shock.

It wasn't just that she was much, much bigger in the bird form she was currently in (some kind of seagull?) than her usual choices, but that her wings were also black, unlike the snowy-white she'd almost exclusively presented with in the past, no matter what form she'd chosen to take. And that wasn't the only thing either; there was something different in the way she sat within herself that Saruhiko could see as she flew past.

"Hn. Another early settler," remarked Saya.

"Settled?" Saruhiko repeated, still surprised regardless of Munakata's background making this seem not so strange.

Misaki appeared to calm down when he saw Saruhiko's reaction. "The day Totsuka died," he said darkly. "Or the day we thought he did anyway, thanks to your King."

The little girl (young woman now, he supposed, even if she was young to be called so) threw herself against Totsuka in a display so much more passionate than her usual manner that Saruhiko couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He'd known they'd taken the steps they'd taken to hide Totsuka from Anna so that she wouldn't inform the rest of HOMRA of his survival and possibly tip-off the Colourless King, but at the same time he realised he'd felt like she would somehow know the truth anyway, because she somehow always did.

Evidently, she hadn't.

"An albatross," Kiki informed them.

Albatross?

"They have bigger wings than any other bird," Misaki boasted. "Pretty awesome, huh?" He was smiling again, and sometimes Saruhiko wasn't quite sure why he hated to see Misaki smile like that so much; but he felt like Saya knew exactly why and somehow kept it from him when the time came to explain it to himself.

It was rare he felt himself wanting an explanation when that face was actually in front of him. He'd stayed away so much over the past year out of embarrassment for what Misaki had seen at the Atlantis Institute that he hadn't realised things would be like this seeing him again.

Munakata could probably have explained it. Saruhiko felt his eyes drawn back to him as if to an exit; before, in that same direction, Anna and the huge white bird with the great black wings that was also Anna both turned to meet his scouring eyes in unison.

She held them for a moment, then smiled—as rare a smile from her as leaping into poor Totsuka's arms had been, and he managed to keep that gaze for longer than he should have before he turned his head away. There was a brief moment he wondered why the part of him that wished she was afraid of him wasn't so fierce anymore.

"Are you still not..." Misaki started and trailed off. Saruhiko wanted to mock him but again, couldn't bring himself to, only muttering with some annoyance;

"Finish your sentence, Misaki."

"Shut up!" Misaki snapped at him. "I was only trying to ask whether or not... because we haven't seen you since we found that mole guy and before that... and Kusanagi-san's Heartless Woman would only tell us... damn it all, Saruhiko, why do you have to make this so difficult!?"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. He could feel the heat coming from Kiki's back rising against Saya's stomach as she dropped her head down against the wolverine's fur.

"I'm just standing here, Misaki."

Misaki clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly, almost like he was being scolded, and maybe in a way he was. Maybe internally he was scolding himself for being unable to spit out what he wanted to. Saruhiko often forgot Misaki had his own issues. He didn't like to think of that part of Misaki anymore than he'd acknowledge the side of himself Munakata seemed so sure existed.

"What he's trying to say is that we wanted to talk to you, idiot!"

Kiki addressed him directly, a habit of hers that he'd always been annoyed had never been restricted to him, even if he seemed to be one of the few who wasn't bothered by it until Suoh Mikoto had slouched into their lives. So informal; undignified for a daemon to do in public, with someone who wasn't their partner, child or close relative. Misaki knew that. He had to know the message it sent, the way it had played with Saruhiko like every other action he'd displayed towards him since HOMRA; _mocking_ him by letting Kiki speak for him even though they weren't... like that.

Yet, and since he hadn't seen her talk to another human in a year and the frustration wasn't quite so piercing, Saruhiko only sighed and waved his arm dismissively.

"You want to talk to me?" he asked them. He felt almost too tired to mock them back, at least not out loud. "Fine."

The alley a small ways down the street he'd once tried to burn the Red off his skin in lay just ahead and at once its presence was all too much there. It was the perfect place.

He nodded towards it and began to walk, and Misaki followed him without challenging this choice. Part of him wondered what was going through Misaki's mind—if he realised the significance of where Saruhiko was leading them, if he didn't care or even thought it was the best place to 'talk' as well.

_If I might inquire, Fushimi-kun, is it necessary that Yata Misaki figure out the cause for the break down in your relationship for himself, or is it that it is necessary he doesn't figure it out at all?_

So had run some of the idle bull Munakata had thrown out at him while he'd supervised Saruhiko's little 'vacation'—and there was another one whose daemon chatted to all and sundry, only Lyriba was different: any fool could tell she just did it to screw with people. It pained Saruhiko to admit he hadn't had an answer for that question; or rather that the answer changed depending on the day but mostly it was the second one, that he didn't want Misaki to figure it out at all.

A normal person probably would have thought it so weird for him to want to prolong this agony as far as he could. But Saya had changed back from a cobra to a lizard near enough through her own sheer will all those months ago, when they'd realised remaining otherwise would have destroyed the bond that had been between them for good by writing off the person Misaki had made the bond with.

He hadn't wanted that. Still didn't want it. Had the terrible feeling that if Misaki finally understood the truth—the _whole_ truth, he'd think of that old Saruhiko as just as gone for good. It wasn't that Saruhiko thought he'd hate homosexuals or anything, but he'd definitely have been freaked out and especially if he realised Saruhiko had been interested in _him_.

The snow began to fall as soon as he leant back against that same place he had two years ago, and Misaki's expression shifted when he realised it, but he stood his ground. He only grasped for words for a few seconds, while Kiki came to rest at his side and Saya left her to scamper back to Saruhiko. Saruhiko was impressed with him for that.

"I really should be back inside with the others," he said.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Yes, one must lie in one's bed after it's been made, Misaki."

"Shut up, monkey—I meant that you should be in there too!" He flung his arm out at him. "That coat you can take on and off whenever you want, but the mark that made you a part of HOMRA was burned onto your skin forever. You should be here with the rest of us and I want to know, really _know_ why you're not!"

For a moment Saruhiko considered showing him what that skin looked like right now, but shuddered internally at the prospect of more pity. There was a long silence. And then Misaki added; quieter, but with greater desperation—

"Haven't you been through enough at that stupid place?"

Suddenly without words, Saruhiko felt his eyes widen. Misaki blamed SCEPTRE 4 for everything that had happened to Saruhiko since he'd left? What about what he'd been through before it!? Takashima Reiko had been a hellish ordeal, yes, but Saruhiko had still been with HOMRA when Takashima Natsuhiro had taken him hostage, not to mention all the other trouble he'd been in during and before they'd met the Red Clan.

... is what he should have been thinking. Instead his thoughts zeroed in on the obvious concern in Misaki's voice and he wondered, was he showing this concern—even when Saruhiko was as healthy as he ever was—because he was feeling well-disposed since Saruhiko had 'saved' Totsuka, or because of residual pity from the Takashima incident? Because he'd known that pity would never go away, and he had the darkest feeling that that was what was on Misaki's mind right now.

And what should that have mattered? It was over now. It had happened, it was over, and the thought of going back to HOMRA still made Saruhiko's insides twist.

 _Going back to HOMRA,_ Saya wondered at him silently, _or leaving SCEPTRE 4? It's hardly a paradise, but could we really live anywhere else at this point?_

Of course they could. Of course they could.

_Then where?_

"You think it wouldn't have happened if I'd still been with that trash, Misaki?" Saruhiko asked him quietly. "Even after what just happened to Totsuka-san? It isn't any safer at Kusanagi-san's bar than with the Blue Clan, Misaki."

"But if it's the same why choose them then!? We were friends, Saruhiko! All of us! And you just left and you keep saying these people aren't your friends and you wanted power, but I don't see what power you have with them when you have to follow orders and shit that you didn't have to do here, so why!? Why!?"

The eyes that had widened narrowed. Misaki still didn't get it. He was never going to get it. What was the point of this stupid talk if he wasn't even going to try and—

"They weren't our friends," said Saya, before he could stop her, and he felt an impression from her she didn't put into words but that he understood easily all the same.

_Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong._

Misaki _was_ trying. It was Saruhiko who wasn't. Bringing that up between themselves was just like Saya to do, but it shocked him that she was going so far as to make the effort to redress on her own.

"What?" Misaki asked, seemingly nonplussed about being addressed directly by the daemon. "What does that mean, Saruhiko; you've said that before but I don't understand when all I can remember about you being here was us having fun together with everyone!"

"No," said Saya, without missing a beat, "you remember _you_ having fun with everyone; we were always just there. You always do this though, don't you? Would you have preferred we stuck around and talked about you behind your back than tell you plainly what we felt? As if we _had_ anyone else to talk to, though I suppose that's another thing you just refused to see."

"Stop it," Saruhiko muttered to her.

The words had no force behind them, and Saya knew it, but the look on Misaki's face was not the one Saruhiko wanted to see. It wasn't that confused anger focussed only on him, that rage, that intensity, no. It was realisation, directed inwards—a trickle of guilt beginning to stain the confusion, like Misaki was finally going to see what they both wanted and didn't want him to.

Because if they saw, then would there ever be any reason to look at them with that intensity again? Wouldn't they just accept it and move on from them completely?

It might be a good thing if they did. So Saruhiko could do the same. That was what he knew Munakata wanted, and there had to be only so much heartache Saruhiko could take just to spite the man for caring. It wasn't like things were ever going to be like they were before anyway.

Maybe that was why Saya was doing this now? She had always been surprisingly willing to entertain Munakata's eccentricities.

"And if you still don't understand, Misaki," she added, "let me ask you this: can you ever remember asking us what we wanted to do while we were here, rather than _telling_ us what we were _going_ to do?"

"Don't, Saya," Saruhiko told her a little more forcefully. After all it wasn't fair of her to put the whole thing on Misaki. It wasn't fair for her to give even this much of an explanation if she wasn't willing to give the rest.

_We were in love with you._

_We didn't want to see you looking at other people._

_We wanted it to be just the two of us, and the two daemons._

Their wants were mutually exclusive, of course, another thing Saruhiko had realised a long time ago. It was just that keeping the illusion up might have been easier than letting it go, and he supposed it was his own cowardice that was keeping him from finding out the truth.

Meanwhile, Misaki was clearly struggling to come to terms with what Saruhiko had just told him, and such was the twist inside him that Saruhiko felt compelled to add—

"It wasn't... just that," with a voice that had to claw its way past the still so strong urge to repress those feelings trying to keep it down. It made its way out, but Saruhiko wasn't entirely sure Misaki heard him. He still had that same heart-breaking look on his face.

Maybe that was why they'd saved Totsuka—because it turned out they had a heart to break.

Yes, that was right. They hadn't saved him for Misaki, or SCEPTRE 4, or Totsuka himself.

They had saved him for their own sake.

Munakata would be disgustingly proud, no doubt. Was disgustingly proud, because he had certainly known the whole time.

"But..." Misaki stuttered, "but I didn't..."

"You could have said something!" Kiki cut in, leaping forward. "You could have told us you wanted to do something else; how are we supposed to know you're feeling something if you don't actually say something about it!"

Saruhiko snorted humourlessly, unsurprised that the wolverine had been the one to process what had been said faster. All the same, out of habit it was Misaki he addressed when he answered.

"I suppose that's fair, Misaki, but you asked me why I'd rather stay with SCEPTRE 4 than go back to HOMRA, and at the end of the day I don't have to say it out loud to that guy for him to know things. And it makes it easier."

Misaki stared at him again, then turned his eyes away with a little frown Saruhiko thought brimmed with jealousy in more than just his imagination, and he smiled briefly.

The silence dragged on after that. From the way Kiki and Misaki were looking at each other he guessed they must have been conversing internally—arguing, probably, about how to proceed; while Saya and he had hit a synchronised moment where they waited for Misaki to decide what he would say.

It was a strange feeling, waiting there in pure anticipation, neither negative nor positive, waiting for Misaki to make his move.

It seemed a long time. Maybe because they had spent such a long time in their state of flux before coming to this point. Maybe because they had hoped they'd never come to this point. Maybe because they were so relieved they finally had.

And then...

"Fine," Misaki snapped at him, and pointed accusingly. "But HOMRA is still better!"

Saruhiko blinked.

Next thing he knew, Misaki had staggered over to him with the same look on his face that he got whenever he tried to talk to a girl he wasn't related to and clapped him harshly on his upper arm.

"I won't deny your feelings anymore. Kusanagi-san talked to me about chimeras enough that I think I understand properly now, and if you feel better with those Blues then that's that. But you still have HOMRA's mark. And I'm going inside now, so you can follow me if you feel like it, and I think you should." There was a long pause. "That's all."

That was all.

All except that Saruhiko had been in love with him, or was in love with him, he didn't know anymore.

It should have been only right that he admitted it, even if it would probably make Misaki's mind explode.

He should have...

Misaki turned his back and marched out of the alley. Kiki lagged a second or so behind him, her dark eyes on Saya before she too left them standing there. Saruhiko's mouth refused to form the words, and he was glad, because even if Misaki deserved to hear the truth Saruhiko still didn't want to tell it to him.

He envied how simple it was for the other boy. How he was walking away even now, like 'that's all' solved everything, and Saruhiko supposed if it was enough for him then it was enough for him, and it just wasn't in his nature to think about whether it was enough for Saruhiko even though Saruhiko had just _told_ him to maybe consider his feelings on matters for once. Well, Saya had. It was the same thing really.

Then again, maybe Misaki just thought that he didn't need to worry about that now Saruhiko had that other person in his life.

And then Misaki disappeared around the corner, Kiki following. Saya snorted.

"Why the long face?" she asked him. "It's not like it's the last time we'll run into that idiot, if there are still things you want to say to him."

"I don't want to say those things," Saruhiko muttered. "You know he'd have no idea what to do about it and then he'd avoid us like the plague. We've already lost his hatred thanks to Takashima Reiko."

"You're going to admit defeat then, are you?"

Saruhiko sighed. "It seems the victor was the same person it always is."

Saya snorted again. "Our beloved King."

"Who else?"

"So what are we going to do?"

It always came down to that, didn't it? And Saruhiko would normally have said they'd do whatever they felt like doing, but today was one of those days they just couldn't sort out what they were feeling from what they wanted to be feeling, and so he found himself leaning back against the brick wall and watching the snow slowly falling past his face.

That was all. For Misaki felt he understood, and did understand to the extent Saruhiko was willing to let him, and it made him wonder if Takashima had pushed him so far all those months ago that he just couldn't cope with holding on to those feelings anymore; even if he'd been able to hold back that most secret part of the matter.

So being kidnapped, tortured and violated by a psychopath had been good for him, apparently.

Or maybe it was something else about that whole thing that had been good for him.

Or some _one_.

He'd have thought it would frighten him to find himself thinking about someone other than Misaki. But it didn't, and maybe that was why those thoughts were stirring in the first place.

Then just as Saya leaned her head over to whisper something in his ear he probably didn't want her to say out loud, the metal door at the back of the bar banged open and an empty can that had been resting on top of one of the large trash cans fell and clattered on the floor, rolling down the alley. Saya's frill began to rise, their eyes sliding towards the noise, and a red glow.

Suoh Mikoto let the door bounce back against his daemon's head carelessly as he stalked out into the alley, lighting a cigarette. However the lion's head was as hard as his, and Kol didn't really seem to notice the impact. He followed Suoh and swept his tail against the rolling soda can, flicking it against the opposite wall. Saya assumed a defensive position. Saruhiko waited for the Red King to notice him.

When he did he no more than raised his eyebrows in greeting before taking a drag from the cigarette and leaning against the opposite wall, about seven or eight metres from Saruhiko.

There had never been any way this encounter would not have resulted in some exchange of words. After what had happened, Saruhiko had too much to say; despite thinking of himself as the sort of person who'd sooner scowl and slink away at the first sight of the other man. But he wasn't, and he stood for a good half-minute, waiting for Suoh to make the first move.

Typically for him, Suoh was in no hurry. He blew smoke out into the snowy air and glanced with some curiosity at Saruhiko, while Kol lay down at rest looking towards the door. Wanting to go back inside? Then why had the idiots left in the first place?

What the hell was supposed to be so great about this guy?

"Haven't seen you in a while," Suoh remarked at length. It was quite clear that it would be all he said until he got a response.

It irked Saruhiko more than anything that he couldn't think of a suitable one then and there; just an "Oh? Did you miss me?" that mocked himself as much as it did Suoh.

"Hn," said Suoh, which could have been a yes or a no, and probably didn't matter either way. "Izumo had been noticing it. Totsuka said he was sure it would work itself out."

The anger that shot through any hint of apprehension Saruhiko might have had was like a knife. And yet, it was almost nothing to do with himself, but what that attitude had caused for the other people in his life far more recently. The knife broke through what internal barriers to speaking to the Red King he'd erected.

"Well, it didn't," he snapped. " _That person_ worked it out, and then he went and cleaned up _your_ mess as well. Don't get me wrong," he added hastily, "he's as much of an asshole as anyone else who turned out to be one of you so-called Kings, but at least he gets things done—even if it is mostly jigsaw puzzles."

Kol's head turned away from the door, and towards Saruhiko, making Saya rear up a little on his shoulder though there was no aggression in his movement.

"Yeah," said Suoh. He took another drag from the cigarette. "But then, he didn't give me the chance this time, did he?"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "I forgot how stupid you were," he said with a sneer. "You going out and trying to respond to this with your Sword of Damocles on the brink was what was making the mess in the first place! Are you really so brainless you don't understand when people tell you that exerting yourself by—say, killing the Colourless King—is going to kill you and possibly half the city along with you!? Or do you just not care?" He clicked his tongue. "What a noble King."

"Never pretended to be noble," said Suoh, with a shrug; but at the same time there was discomfort now in the way he averted his eyes, and maybe it was because he knew what a sorry excuse it was.

"Oh, no—and yet somehow they all think you are anyway. Don't you mind if that delusion gets them killed one day?"

This time a small smile changed Suoh's face.

"That won't happen," he said, and turned his eyes to the street that now seemed empty of all those potential combatants. "That guy would never let it."

"Yes, that guy is something like your personal maid, isn't he? I suppose you care fuck all about him, too?"

It was odd that that was an accusation when any outsider would have pegged the two as enemies, but Saruhiko was close enough to the inside to see just how untrue that was for Munakata, and as for Suoh... well, that was one of those things that varied depending on the day. But it was almost as though he hoped the same could be said of Suoh for Munakata's sake, even if only to spare the Clan the embarrassment of those feelings not being returned.

It was something a little like jealousy.

"He'll get by," Suoh said, hoarse but confident. "That's the kind of person he is."

" 'It'll all work itself out'," Saruhiko mocked. "Honestly, you sound like a broken record." Before he could stop himself—and he could feel Saya prompting him—he then blurted out, "he already has a chip in his own Sword now."

Suoh stilled and then shut his eyes. Saruhiko could almost sense him about to say that that was why Munakata should have let it alone and cut in—

"But that was from the _Seventh_ King. It would have been much worse if he'd had to kill you."

After a brief moment where the Red King placed his incendiary gaze of Saruhiko's own as if searching for the truth, he exhaled and let his head fall back against the wall.

"Well, shit," he said.

Kol raised his head towards Suoh. "Does this mean we have to get that Silver asshole to do it?" he asked ruefully.

"Hn. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth to think about it," said Suoh.

"To be killed by someone who's even more of a coward than we are, you mean?"

Suoh made a laughter-like grunt. "Sounds right."

 _The Cowardly Lion_ , thought Saruhiko. _What a joke._

"I suppose you couldn't try _not_ being a coward, then?" Saya blurted out angrily.

Saruhiko looked at her in shock and felt the instant regret she'd had that she'd said anything, even as he couldn't believe his daemon had spoken to Suoh Mikoto, as much as he'd been itching for someone to say what she'd just said.

Why they both thought it was such a bad idea seemed strange though, when they knew it wasn't like Suoh was going to attack them in a fit of rage or anything. He had a presence that, however irrationally, simply cowed most people who came before it. Like with Munakata, the greatest fear was that there might not be a reason to be so fearful of the man's presence; so great because it implied they might be people who could be relied upon, and if Saruhiko started thinking he could rely on other people, fuck knows what would happen.

What Suoh Mikoto could be relied on to do, however; that was an entirely different matter.

At that moment he'd tilted his head, as if to say 'touché', and blown more smoke into the air before, with a deep exhale, he replied;

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Funny, how I seem to have all this power, and yet I can't make the effort to change myself. And all this power is the reason me being myself is screwing people over. Has to be a King that does the job, doesn't it?"

That last sentence the Red King had said almost to himself, but it shot a thought into Saruhiko's mind that bloomed where he kept parts of himself he not only knew were unseemly, but agreed were so.

And Saya, she thought of a certain Ethiopian wolf daemon and the accompanying human that walked the halls of SCEPTRE 4 with a weight on their shoulders no other Blue Clansman carried, and she thought it was a great idea. So he confirmed, "Has to be a King that kills you?" and Suoh nodded absently with an nondescript noise.

Kol though, he might have guessed what was coming, as his blazing eyes narrowed in on them.

Saruhiko tried to ignore him when he plunged ahead. "How very like you to get it wrong, Suoh Mikoto," he said. "Only a King can _defeat_ another King. Anyone could kill you, as long as you let them."

Suoh's hand froze, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. The end burned with a faint glow that crumbled the ash and left it falling with the snow towards the stained ground of the alley. Kol just gave him a look; seemed nonchalant where Suoh's eyes gained a whole other world of intensity with only a fraction of extra width.

In his mind, Saruhiko saw Misaki's face twisted with a hatred as yet unknown to that visage, a hatred that went far too far to be what had given him his painful comfort before the incident in January. But it was alive, and not blinded out by the light of Suoh Mikoto's red flames as it crumbled into as much ash as was falling from the Red King's hand that very moment.

If he could help Misaki...

On his shoulder, Saya squirmed. He knew exactly why as soon as she moved; why else but because what Suoh had just said had been true—Munakata would have never let it happen anyway, so if Saruhiko was able to convince Suoh here and now, it wasn't Misaki he'd be helping— _saving_ , potentially.

The eyes of the Red King locked with his. He couldn't hold them. His own danced out of their grip only to return and then to flash away again with every other second.

This seemed to last a very long time.

And then Suoh laughed.

"Right," he said. "Right, that would make sense."

Pushing away from the wall, he flicked his cigarette into a puddle and stalked resolutely towards Saruhiko, who, back already against the wall, could only slide sideways a single step before Suoh loomed right in front of him; over him—within biting distance.

He rested his arm against the wall, next to Saruhiko's head. It was a threatening gesture, and yet what Saruhiko sensed coming was not a threat per se, or not the traditional kind at least. He shuddered at the smell of the smoke when Suoh leaned in to speak.

"In that case, Fushimi," he said, "I'll make you a deal."

Saruhiko disliked the sound of that already. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kol saunter casually past them, his own cat's eyes on Saya, who had slipped down his arm to get further away from Suoh. She puffed her frill up at the lion, who began pacing while Suoh continued.

"I don't want to screw up what I have here with everyone and I don't like the thought of being bound up by some 'way' that the Red King is always going to be according to those old farts. So I'll try. I'll try to keep from going overboard; look into getting my damn Weismann level sorted out or whatever they think will help."

Could anything actually be done about that? The research into it was limited, particularly since the foremost expert on the Slate had not deigned to do any research on it for the better part of the past century.

But if Weismann was willing to rejoin the mortal world, and live up to his daemon's characteristic guiding towards 'honey'...

Wait, Suoh Mikoto was actually going to give in? Surrender his obstinacy to the will of others, as he would have surrendered his life to said obstinacy only an hour ago?

"But," Suoh went on, "if I do this, and I still fuck it up, then someone's going to have to take care of it." He glanced back at the door he'd come out through. Kol stopped his pacing for a while to shake his head. "It can't be anyone here—they wouldn't do it. Couldn't. Not even Izumo."

That, frightening as it was, was also somehow undeniable.

"Munakata could do it and would, but like you say it would fuck him up royally... so if it comes down to it, I'm going to leave it in _your_ hands."

...

_What?_

Saruhiko's jaw dropped like an idiot's. Suoh just smirked at him. Then glanced down at his collar bone and reached to push the edge of Saruhiko's shirt and jacket aside while he was too stunned to stop him.

The breadth of the scar below was his to see.

"I wouldn't want it to be someone who didn't have _that_ , after all."

He meant the HOMRA brand, not the scar. That had been the most mundanely annoying thing about the Takashima incident; while an uneven burn had obscured the truth since bits of the original tattoo had still bled through to grab an onlooker's attention, removing that bit of skin in its entirety had revealed that the mark of the Red Clan had actually seared right through, probably down to his ribs.

It was much more faded than the original scarlet flame, and with the skin around it so much reddened in itself the contrast was further diminished. But plain as day the red mark of HOMRA still remained engraved on his chest forever, and he'd probably have had to get a real tattoo to cover it up.

That didn't appeal to him though. The way it was, it actually felt... right.

Just like what Suoh Mikoto was telling him now seemed right. And not even because he wanted to kill him; old, hollow fantasies that never made even his fantasy-self feel satisfied aside, this was right because it made so much sense.

Who would have thought it of Suoh Mikoto?

Of course, Saruhiko's natural impulse was to reject it.

"You'd let me carve you up like a Christmas turkey, would you?" he laughed desperately as he spoke, pushing Suoh's hand away from his shirt. "That's ridiculous. If Kusanagi objects then order him to do it as King—you might as well give one order that didn't come from him anyway before you die; or have Totsuka do it; he might finally get a god damn dose of reality!"

Suoh continued to smirk at him.

"Right," Saruhiko continued. He didn't know why he was protesting so much, but it kept coming out. "I'm sure that gold bastard has no end of suitable cronies for the task. Hell, Miwa's Black Dog was more than ready to take on the task of killing a King, or I could always find you a spare sword and watch you fall on it yourself!"

"Knowing me, I'd probably miss and blow up the city with my face flat on the ground," said Suoh, with a snort. At long last he took his arm away from the wall and straightened up. "Besides, I don't trust any of those other guys. None of them were able to leave a mark on me."

He pulled his own collar aside, and Saruhiko felt his face heat up with its own red when he saw the vaguely circular set of scars where Suoh's neck met his shoulder; faded to white at the two edges, but still quite pink at the top, even after eleven months. Saya scampered back up his arm to look at it.

"Feel better about the mark I gave you?" Suoh asked him.

The question didn't deserve an answer, even if the answer was 'yes'. The way this entire conversation was going to end was inevitable anyway. What was the sense in fighting it?

"Fine," Saruhiko hissed out at him. "I'll be the one who puts you out of you misery, if only so I can put the knife that does the job up for auction afterwards."

"I'm sure you'll make a killing," said Suoh, without missing a beat. Kol laughed.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. A part of him refused to believe this was happening. The rest of him didn't want to consider any of the wider implications.

Except for one thing that needled at him like Saya's little claws against his skin. He hated to admit it, but fear still flooded into his head at the thought. Enough that when he spoke to Suoh, he addressed him at first as—

"Mikoto-san... Suoh. You'll... you'll leave some kind of message, won't you? Saying that we discussed this? If it ever comes down to it he'll never accept that—they'll never accept, I mean..."

Suoh turned as if to leave but looked back to Saruhiko to tell him, "Yeah. I'll take care of it," before he began to move. Kol walked ahead.

It seemed too nonchalant though; for the Red King to have meant it. Saruhiko hardly trusted him after all. So he went on, slightly louder, at the withdrawing figure.

 

"But you won't tell Yata in advance either? Otherwise he'll try to prevent it somehow, he won't understand—"

"I know," said Suoh. He paused, hands in pockets. It was still snowing after all. "I'll take care of it. You don't need to worry about it anyway; a guy like you. Easy to damage. Harder than hell to break." Just then he looked back and smirked. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Saya moved to Saruhiko's shoulder, and he heard her huff in their annoyance.

"What makes you think we're doing any 'better'?" she sneered.

"Pretty much that entire conversation we just had," said Suoh, and looking back on it Saruhiko supposed he might have had a point—depending on what you thought 'better' meant, because some days it felt to him like a surrender.

Suoh turned away completely after that, but threw over his shoulder—

"You should go on up to the roof. I saw him headed up there."

"You mean Misaki?" Saruhiko asked.

"No."

That was the last thing Suoh Mikoto said to him that night. He disappeared back around the corner towards the front of the bar; leaving the back door open for Saruhiko to use should he have wanted to go up to the roof as Suoh had suggested.

And he supposed he'd better, because who knew what the Blue King was going to start on any given day of the week, especially now the Red Clan had just been pacified? The best Saruhiko could hope for was to be able to prepare himself for it. He always enjoyed seeing the look of hastily suppressed surprise and pride on Munakata's face when he figured out a scheme of his before it was put into action; it was probably why the man was so secretive in the first place.

No, he couldn't even say 'probably' anymore. That was the case plain and simple.

When he came in through the back entrance to the stairs he lingered only for a moment at the door that led back through to the bar so he could make sure no one looked like they might have seen him and tried to follow. Totsuka had been brought in off the street, which he supposed was good since it meant the idiot wouldn't freeze to death after all the trouble they'd gone through for him, and was chatting animatedly with his Clan about what had happened with Anna glued to his side.

The Silver Clan were where he couldn't see them, or had left, but most of his own colleagues stood drinks in hand off to the side, looking awkward; Hidaka's husky daemon in particular was on the verge of pacing—probably would have done if Gotou's great Dane didn't nudge her every so often. Awashima looked comfortable enough, of course, having joined her... whatever Kusanagi was to her behind the bar, while Graziano and Chiaka perched on the counter, side-by-side between them.

And Doumyoji was fitting in well with the loudmouth Reds, the little pug bouncing up and down and challenging the motley assortment of HOMRA daemons with relish every time they invited it, or so it seemed to Saruhiko from what little he saw of their interaction. Funnily enough Doumyoji occupied the space Saruhiko would have ordinarily allocated to Misaki, but despite the revelry of the others being in even more high spirits than he might have expected for the Reds, Misaki didn't seem to be a part of it. On the contrary, Saruhiko saw him standing off to the side by the window, dividing his attention between what was going on in front of him with Totsuka answering the others' excited questions and the nothing that was happening outside the window. Or maybe Suoh was still out there. Misaki could usually be counted upon to be looking at him at any given moment.

Yet again, that didn't smart as much as it used to. Or maybe it was just that Saruhiko had become numb to the feeling. At the moment he didn't really mind which it was, he felt more like being in the presence of his Captain anyway. What a strange feeling that was.

"I suppose," Saruhiko said idly to the lizard on his shoulder as he turned away from that door and the light emitting from it, "Some of those sentimental fools would like to call the feeling 'hope'."

"It's not hope," Saya told him dismissively, and quickly too. "Hope for what? You and I aren't as vague as all that."

"What would you call it then?"

She paused for a moment, her tongue coming out in a motion that wasn't quite a snake's or a lizard's. That tongue was the only thing about her that still somewhat resembled that of a snake, but it didn't worry him all that much anymore.

"I'd call it safe," she said.

Safe, huh? It would have been silly to believe he could ever have been absolutely so, and yet, a measure of safety perhaps was not beyond his grasp. He could at least trust in the power of his captain that much, seeing what it could do in all those other situations. He still remembered the man's nonchalance when it came to having his daemon touched by a psychopath. Sometimes, it seemed, the pride flew in two directions.

More, if you counted the daemons.

Either way, he had no problem with what Saya had just said. They climbed the stairs, not without trepidation, but not fearfully either—their hands remaining steady despite the cold of the air outside.

Still, they also approached quietly, so as not to give him undue warning to their presence. And it seemed wisely so because Munakata was not alone up on the roof.

"—This is just like the devil cat," the brother was saying. "You know what I'm talking about don't you?"

"Hmm?" Munakata replied. Through the crack of the open door Saruhiko saw him looking out into the night sky, no more than a metre from the faint bloodstain Totsuka's attack had left on the cold stone ground. Lyriba was conspicuous on his shoulder, her rings glowing. Even after so many months it always seemed odd to see her in such close proximity to her human.

"Don't pretend, Reisi; that monster was your best friend when we were kids. Every kid in the neighbourhood but you has a half-dozen permanent scars from the damn thing."

"What, Angel?" asked Lyriba. "She was lovely. Or he, we never did get close enough to figure that one out."

The violet-eyed bird hopped from the brother's one shoulder to the one nearer to her sister.

"You know everyone else only ever called it that ironically, right?" she asked exasperatedly. "Remember when that blackbird family took up residence in Mother's garden, and she and her human were so happy until Angel came along and killed them."

"Actually, Luilla, I don't remember that."

"Oh, Dad was super pissed off all right," said the brother. (what was his name again? Saruhiko had forgotten since he didn't care all that much about it). "It didn't even eat the poor things—left them on the doorstep of the house like some movie serial killer." Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, pointing at nothing emphatically. "Ah, now I remember! You wouldn't have been there because it was right after you had to go live with the mermaids."

"There, you see?" said Munakata with a smirk, "She must have been leaving gifts for me in the hopes that I would return. She _was_ a good kitty."

The brother rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Reisi, it did try to bite your eyeball out that one time."

"You and mother always made too much of a fuss about that incident."

"And this thing with your corporal, or whatever he is, is exactly the same, Reisi—'oh, my subordinate is so wonderful!' Wonderful? It's probably a wonder he's not locked up."

He said it in a way like he wasn't entirely serious, and that was how Munakata seemed to take it.

"Well, if he leaves any dead birds on my doorstep I'll be sure to warn you, Luilla."

"Hmph!" said the bird. "Typical that's all the gratitude you have for your older sibling trying to look out for you. Don't come crying to me if he tries to slit your throat in your sleep!"

Saruhiko was about to announce his presence; making a quip about how Munakata was unlikely to die even if he somehow did get close enough to slit his throat. But he was stopped in his tracks by the glint that appeared in Munakata's eyes as he answered;

"That would be very interesting indeed."

As her human's palm hit his own face the bird daemon groaned with defeat. "I just don't understand it!? Where did our parents go wrong with the two of you?!"

"Well, never mind," said the brother, and in a change so jarring it almost left Saruhiko wondering if he hadn't hallucinated some part of the conversation he could see the man shrug off everything he'd just been arguing about and forget about it. "You'll be coming home for Mom's birthday next week, right?"

Where the idea of having his throat slit by his favourite subordinate had failed to elicit so much as a batted eye from the Blue King, the reminder of his mother's upcoming birthday had him suddenly frozen.

"Er..." he said.

Lyriba bounced away from him. "Uh oh," she said. "You guys have fun discussing that!"

"Wait right there, Lyriba!" cried Luilla, taking off after her, but the octopus flew away fast enough over the side of the building that even a long distance bond between a human and bird daemon like her was very quickly too far stretched.

She flew back to the brother in a huff. He'd managed to keep a stern eye on Munakata the whole time, with little more than a grimace as he'd felt the stretch. Munakata grimaced.

"I will, of course, be sure to make every effort to attend, Ni-san, but I'm sure you now understand the importance of my work more than ever, and the unpredictable nature of the Red King—"

Ah. There was an opening.

"—lends itself to multiple occasions where it has become simply impossible to—"

"Don't worry, Captain," Saruhiko cut in, batting the door open wider and strolling out onto the roof. "Since Suoh owes you a favour now I'm sure we could convince him to take a day off for your mother's birthday. He's such a great guy, after all."

Saya chuckled a little; Munakata's grimace became a rueful smile and the brother grinned but then cocked his head.

"Wait, how long were you standing there?"

Saruhiko gave him a look. "Enough to know my plan to slit the Captain's throat in his sleep will have to be reworked."

The brother gave a low whistle and clapped Munakata on the shoulder.

"See, now, aren't you glad your family is around to look out for you? Anyway, we'll see you next week!" He turned towards the door.

"Ni-san—"

From her human's shoulder, the bird daemon turned back to call "Take care of yourselves!" while she passed Saruhiko. Saya instinctively crawled around to the shoulder furthest away from the other daemon when their proximity increased, and watched the two carefully as they slipped through the door.

There had been a very Blue-King-yet-not-Blue-King look on the human's face. It lingered in Saruhiko's mind when the door clanged shut.

A long gust of icy wind blew a flurry of snowflakes between them and Munakata. The fall was still gentle after that, but became much denser than before.

There was a short silence.

"It will settle like this," Munakata said, looking out at the weather. He was still smiling, as he always seemed to be when the two of them were alone together. "We should give everyone the day off tomorrow and organize snowball-fight training."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a terrible idea," he said, but since he knew that come tomorrow his colleagues would no doubt be lined up awkwardly facing each other while Awashima inventoried each officer's snowball supply he added, "I'll get right on it," with a sigh. Munakata had probably never had a snowball fight before.

Come to think of it, neither had Saruhiko.

"You always work so hard, Fushimi-kun."

"Yeah, sure."

Before another awkward silence could descend, Saruhiko found he had a distinct sense of déjà vu, and a little prompt from Saya reminded him of the feeling he'd had that had made him suddenly start confessing the circumstances behind his losing the knife back at the Gold King's tower the year before.

When he remembered that, he knew at once why he was feeling it now, and just like the last time he gave into it, first sauntering towards his Captain's side. Beneath his feet, the snow was indeed beginning to settle.

"I have more good news though," he said. "It seems Suoh Mikoto has decided to appoint me his official executioner, should the time come that we have to put him down like a dog. So you're off the hook."

For the first time that Saruhiko had ever known to have happened, an expression of bare shock came on to his King's face. It pleased and worried him at the same time.

And while Munakata stood there, shocked, Lyriba came flying back over the railing.

"Fushimi-kun!" she cried, and swam up to him fast enough that he jerked back. Saya lay flat against his coat, frill twitching. "Suoh Mikoto asked you to shoulder that burden? What a nerve!"

"Maybe," said Saya, "but it makes sense. We wouldn't be damaged by it, after all."

"But for us to let a subordinate go through that when you've already had to struggle against your previous daemons for such a long time—"

"It's better that what would happen to me if anything happened to you!" Saruhiko blurted out, keeping both man and daemon in his view.

He regretted saying something so schmaltzy immediately, it was embarrassing to the extreme but it had the unfortunate other characteristic of being true, and they both knew it.

Saruhiko had had... problems. _Everyone_ knew that, even Misaki now, and at the same time it seemed like the wound, or the defect, or whatever you could call it was beginning to become better; from the root of the problem, and not just the symptom-reliever leaving HOMRA had been. But it was also not so much that he didn't still need a crutch.

Nor so much that he could let what he'd just said stand without some kind of counterbalance. So he simply said the first thing that came to mind.

"I hate you,"

The look of shock relaxed on the Blue King's face. The Queen's rings stopped glowing quite so fiercely. Saruhiko continued, feeling Saya's full-fledged support for this choice of theirs. This was the kind of thing she'd always wanted for them, as cruel as she'd always been in taunting him about their previous coping methods.

"You're annoying, and maybe you do more with what you have than Suoh, but even praise as faint as that falls flat when you realise just how much more you could be doing. You could probably rule the world if you wanted to—I wouldn't stop you, even if it meant you'd give me more work than you already do."

If anything, the relaxed face became more fond than ever before. "Please," Munakata said. "Continue to expand on my deficiencies."

"Tch. I don't know. They can probably all be summed up by some weird mental disorder I've never heard of. At the end of the day, you're just not normal."

He looked out at the moon. And Saya said;

"Maybe that's why you're the only person who makes us feel safe."

Saruhiko had just known she'd say that out loud. It made him glad he wasn't looking at Munakata's expression, because it still caused anxiety to imagine what that might have been. He tried not to regret it though, knowing Munakata he'd probably known it already.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved, and the next thing he knew Lyriba had casually floated over to his other shoulder and landed there—and he felt the pressure of her arms against him through his coat.

That gesture—the sheer _intimacy_ of it—utterly petrified him. He couldn't move. A moment later Munakata came up from behind him and encircled him with his arms; lightly, and yet Saruhiko felt like he was being squeezed so tightly he couldn't breathe.

Munakata's voice whispered by his ear, the same side of him Lyriba had landed on.

"Is this abnormal?" and he sounded completely sincere. Saruhiko may not have been able to breathe, but he certainly felt a sort of laughter bubble up in his throat.

"If I go for your eyeball like your old friend the cat would it answer your question?" he choked out.

"I suppose it would. Is that what you're going to do?"

Saruhiko couldn't remember the last time someone had put their arms around him when it hadn't involved carrying his semi-conscious body. In fact, he couldn't think of any reason why anyone would have; such a thing would have been far too unmasculine for Misaki and, well... there _was_ no one else. There never had been.

 _It's warm_ , Saya told him, through their bond—as if it were some kind of marvel that coming into bodily contact with another warm-blooded creature was warm. _Saruhiko... it's warm_.

'The warm Red', Anna had always called it. This by contrast was very, very Blue, but maybe it was just as warm. Or maybe less so, since Saruhiko had found Red so sweltering. Maybe this was another kind of perfection, one that didn't bleed him like Misaki's fury did.

And yet, there was also a distinct and sharp sensation of vertigo, and he could already see himself surrendering.

 _Let's try surrendering then_ , Saya suggested. _We can always pick the sword up once again if we feel like it_. _Leave our state of flux and try living, for as long as we have the opportunity._

_Choose a different sea creature to believe in._

Yes. Yes, if nothing else it was worth the attempt. Saruhiko took a deep breath...

...and felt his King kiss his temple...

...and let it go.

It seemed apparent then and there that Reisi really did have feelings for him. As he'd said before; the man wasn't normal, so maybe his feelings and the equivalent your average everyman would feel were different. Or maybe they were feelings for a kind of relationship that 'normal' people, people whose daemons didn't settle as an octopus, live out in the open ocean or get stuck halfway between a lizard and a snake, didn't have or want to have.

But Saruhiko wanted it. Saya wanted it. And now he was almost certain Reisi and Lyriba wanted it as well; much as it was silly to think so after a single embrace. A Misaki kind of silly.

"Can we go home?" he asked softly.

Reisi's lips moved against his forehead. "Of course, Saruhiko," he said. "It's been a long day."

The illusive Blue surrounded them.

And it was nice, Saruhiko thought, when four beings were of one, relatively sound mind for a little while.

 

*~*~*~*

 

FIN

 

***~*~*~***

**LIST OF DAEMONS FOR MAJOR CHARACTERS  
** (all the opposite sex of their human, unless otherwise stated)

Suoh Mikoto: [Male] Lion—Kol

Kusanagi Izumo: Wolf's Mona Monkey—Chiaka

Totsuka Tatara: Tortoiseshell Texel Guinea Pig—Perikhadi

Kushina Anna: [Female] Buller's Albatross—Scheherazade

Yata Misaki: Wolverine—Kiallanta ('Kiki')

Munakata Reisi: Southern Blue-Ringed Octopus—Lyriba

Awashima Seri: Northern Great Horned Owl—Graziano

Fushimi Saruhiko: Frill-Necked Lizard (and partially King Cobra)—Saya

 

 **LIST OF DAEMONS FOR MINOR CHARACTERS**  
  


[HOMRA]

Kamamoto Rikio: Koala Bear—Naruko ('Naru')

Fujishima: Indian Muntjac Deer

Bandou: Carrion Crow

Chitose: Scrub Hare

Dewa: Serval

Shouhei: Pied Crow

Eric: Fennec Fox

[SCEPTRE 4]

Akiyama: Golden Retriever—Tien Lin

Benzai: Bloodhound—Zarinda

Kamo: Borzoi (Russian Wolfhound)—Ekatzanya

Doumyouji: Pug—Jem

Enomoto: Standard Poodle—Hethsebore

Fuse: Doberman Pinscher—Mitsuko

Gotou: Great Dane—Sharei

Hidaka: Siberian Husky—Briarwynn

Yoshino: Yorkshire Terrier—Andomaru

Zenjou: Ethiopian Wolf

[OTHERS]

Isana Yashiro/Adolf Weismann: [Male] Malaysian Honeyguide—Harmozel

Yatogami Kuroh: Painted Wolf—Aswariloqi

Neko: Sugar Glider

Miwa Ichigen: [Male] Sea Otter—Darmok

'The Colourless King': Unsettled

Kokujoji Daikaku: Golden Eagle

Munakata Taishi: Satin Bowerbird—Luilla

Moleman: Grant's Golden Mole ****  
  


**SIGNIFICANT ORIGINAL CHARACTERS**

Ishitaka Kenji: Star-Nosed Mole—Tef

Takashima Natsuhiro: [Male] Harpy Eagle—Jackolan

Takashima Reiko: Mountain Lion—Gievfrick

Hirazaki Hotaru: Leafy Seadragon—Zirin

 


End file.
